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ELLEN PEECY;

OR, raa

MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS.

GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS,

AUTHOR OP THB FIRST AND SBCOXD SERIES OF " THB JITSTKEIE3 OF LOKDOX," " THE MTSTERtES
OF THB COURT OF LOXDON," "MART PRICE," "JOSEPH WILMOT," "ROSA XAMBERT," " THE
NECROMANCER," " THB MASSACRE OF GLENCOE," " POPE JOAN," " THB DATS OF HOGARTH,"
"WAGNER THE WEHR-WOLF," "THB SOLDIER'S WIFE," "THE ETE- HOUSE PLOT," "THE BRONZE
STATUE," "the loves OP THE HARBM," " OMAR : A TALE OF THE WAR," " LEILA; OR, THB
STAR OF MINGRBLIA," "MAT MIDDLETON," " THB CORAL ISLAND," " AGNBS; OB, BEAUTT AND
PLKASUBK," "the SEAMSTRESS," " THE PIXT," " KKSNETH," "ROBERT MACAIKB," &3. &8.

WITH FIFTY-TWO WOOD-ENGRAVINGS.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
PUBLISHED, FOR THE PROPRIETOR, BY JOHN DICKS, AT THE OFFICE
( No, 7, WELLINGTON STREET NORTH, STRAND.

1856.

a/^

INDEX TO WOOD-ENGMvmCxS.

'^-,

1. The G-randfatlier'a Death Bed . •

2. Ellen and the Lessee . • • •

3. St. Clair gazing on the Ballet-dancers

4. Ellen and St. Clair . ' tt *

5. The Entertainment at the Parks a House .

6. Ellen and Melissa Harrison

7. Ellen and Colonel Bellew . • • •

8. Ellen and the Gipsies . • •

9. Ellen as Juliet in " Romeo and Juliet

10. The Aunt's Death . • •

11. Scene in Lady Lilla Essendine's Garden .

12. The Brute-tamer - • •

13. Ellen and the Duchess of Ardleigh •
14,. Ellen as Queen Catherine in " Henry \ lU

15. POETEAIT OF ElLEN PeKCT.

16. Ellen and Mr. Crott. • • *

17. The Swoon . • • * "

18. Ellen and Juliet Norman . . • •

19. Ellen as Lady Macbeth

20. PoRTEAiT ov Melissa Haebisoit.
2l] The Lessee and the Performers

22. Ellen's Triumph • • V, „.J„tt.

23 POETEAIT OF THE MaECHIOKESS OF CAMPA>ELLA.

24 Ellen as Mrs. Beverley in " The Gamester __
26 Ellen as Portia in " The Merchant of Venice .

26. PoETEAii OF Lady Lilla Essendine.

27. Mary Glentworth in the Arbour .

28. Ellen and Beda . • • •

29. The Dream of the Dreadful Picture

30. Ellen and Juliet's Cuild

31. POETKAIT OF BEATEICE DI CaEBONI.

32! Ellen, the Marchioness, and Beda .

33.* Zarah and St. Clair , - • •

34. POETEAIT OF JULIET NoEMAN.

35. Beda at the Lunatic Asylum . •

36. A Scene in the Green Eoom . • »

37. St. Clair and Zarah in the Park .

38. POETEAIT OF ElLEN AS CLEOPATEA.

39. The Box at the Theatre

40. Felicia fainting at the Theatre

41. POETEAIT OF MaET GlESTTWOETD.

42. Ellen at her toilet . • • •

43. The Murder on the Cliff . • • •

44. Beatrice identifying the Corpse

45. POETEAIT OF THE DUCHESS OF AeDLBIGH.

46. Death of Mrs. Norman .

47. POETEAIT OF EeLICIA GOWEE.

48'. The Arrest of Ellen and Be.la . ,

49*. The Attack on Black Ned . . • <

50. Dame Betty on her Knees

61. POETEAIT OF LaDT KeLVEDOX.

62. Ellen and Lady Kelvcdon . . • ■

See page

8
21
26
36
46
50
51
63
68
75
81
91
98
109

127
130
139
155

166
178

195
199

220
224
232
242

258
268

277
285
293

314
315

332

347
350

367

391

398
399

408

INDEX TO YOL. I.

Cbapte

r I. The Old House at Leeds . . •

•

II. The Stranget ....

»)

HI. Various Changes of CirCiimstances . ,

lY. The Advertisemeufc . . .

v. The Theatre .....

VI. Edwin St. Clair ....

VII. The Invitation and the Eesult .

■ VIII. The Box at the Theatre . .

IX. The Ball

X. Lady Lilla Essendine . . .

XI. Colonel Bellew's House • . .

XII. The Debut ....

XIII. Claremont Villa ....

XIV. The Bouquet ....

XV. Paisley .....

XVLEmbledon ....

XVII. The Phial in the Filigree Case

XVIII. The Brute.tamer . . .

XIX. The Duchess and the Countess • .

XX. Theatrical Matters ....

102

XXI. The Private Theatricals

108

XXIL The Unacknowledged Wife

112

XXIII. Various Incidents ....

118

XXIV. Mr. Croft ....

125

XXV. Poor Juliet . . . . .

133

„

XXVI. Juliet's Fate ....

139

XXVn. The Park, . , . .

143

XXVIII. The Masquerade

148

XXIX. Lady Macbeth . . , .

154

XXX. A Strange Visitress

159

XXXI. Aunt Oldcastle ....

168

„

XXXIL The Test of Love

173

XXXIII. Francis Howard

178

, Chapter XXXIV, The Old Farm House

XXXV. Zarah

XXXVI. Tho Fearful Picture .

XXXVII. Beatrice di Carboni

XXXVIII. Bcda

XXXIX. Mary Glentworth
XL. The Yacht
XLI. Mary and her Mother
XLII. Juliet's Infant . .
XLIII. The Meeting
XLIV. The Railway Train
XLV. The Earl of Carshalton
XLVI, A Strange Scene .
XLVII. William Lardner .
XLVIII. Zarah and St. Clair .
XLIX. The Pardon
L, The Guilty Lawyer . .
LI. Hyde Park

LII. The Marquis of Tynedale.
LIII. More Mysteries
LIV. Tho Party at the Theatre
LV. The Result of the Plan
LVI. The Black-edged Letter
LVIL Mr. Gower .
LVIII. The Appointment
LXIX. The Cheque
LX. The Cliff .
LXr. The Pier-head
LXII. Again at Leeds .
LXIII. Mrs. Norman
LXIV. Felicia .
LXV. Petersfield .
LXVI. The Cottage
LXVII, The Attack
LXVIII. The Struggle
LXIX Heroiione .
LXX. The Black Hibbon

ELLEN PERCY;
OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS,

CHAPTER. I.

THR OLD HOUSE AT LEEDS.

I HATE often thought, when looking back through
the vista of jears to the period of my early in^
fancy, that such retrospect was like plunging the
No. 1.

regards info the almost endless reaches of a forest,
—where, at the extremity of long winding
avenues, feeble and uncertain glimpses of light
are caught amidst the deep embowering shades.
And in the same way that imagination itself
grows bewildered when flitting into the depths of
that vast wilderness of umbrageous verdure, — so
does memory become confused when striving U)

EIilEN PEECX; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEB88.

fix its gaze on the earliest incidents of life that
can by any possibility be within its reach. Of
this dim and shadowy species was a recollection
which would at times haunt me like the ill-defined
impression of a troubled dream. In my childhood
I used to sit and wonder whether the circumstance
could ever have possibly occurred—or whether it
were a mere fancy arising from some unaccount-
able freak or aberration of an infantile mind.
Methought, however, that this earliest impression
of mine was associated with some dark gloomy
place— a man fondling me upon hia knee, then
pressing me to his heart and sobbing bitterly —
then a woman taking me from his arms, straining
me to her own bosom, and sobbing and weeping
with even more convulsive violence than the grief
of the other. And after this scene there appeared
to be a blank in my existence — until my next im-
pressions were associated with my grandfather's
house at Leeds.

In that great northern town, and in one of
those low quarters which almost exclusively swarm
with the poorest members of the manufacturing
population— in the midst of a labyrinth of narrow
filthy streets, interspersed with huge dingy fac-
tories—and beneath an atmosphere almost ever-
lastingly "blackened by the smoke vomited forth
from the giant chimneys that overlooked the whole
maze of habitations, — there was that house
situated. It was one of the largest in the entire
quarter of which I am speaking— and perhaps also
the gloomiest. Its dark red-brick front displayed
many small windows of the old-fashioned latticed
description; and there was a heavy pointed
wooden portico, supported by two very meagre
pillars. The house was large enough for the
accommodation of a numerous family; and yet it
only contained four persons. These were my
grandfather, the housekeeper, myself, and a
wretched drab of a servant-of-all-work. I did not
know then — but I have since learnt, and therefore
I may as well at once inform the reader — that my
grandfather, Mr. Forsyte, had never pursued any
ostensible profession : but he lent money and dis-
counted bills- though alw.iys in small sums; for
notwithstanding the extent of his avarice he was
afraid of anything in the shape of a great risk,
and therefore would never bo too speculative. The
house was his own property : be had bought it
many years back, at a price which would have
been cheap for even one of the humblest dwell-
ings in the neighbourhood. At the time that
he thus purchased it, the house had been long
shut up : some dreadful murder had been com-
mitted within its walls — its repute was bad —
superstition invested it with the darkest terrors —
and it was falling into decay, when Mr. Forsyth,
availing himself of what he considered to be an
excellent bargain, became its purchaser. If by
living in the meanest lodging elsewhere, and
letting that house to any one else, my grandfather
could have made money, he would have done it :
but he knew that no family would dwell in that
house— it would have moreover required a con-
siderable outlay for reparation — and therefore
Mr. Forsyth continued to inhabit it himself.

Two-thirds of the rooms were shut up ; and
only just so many were furnished as were re-
quired for the use of the inmates. And such fur-
niture as it was! A few pounds expended at the

meanest broker's, would have purchased much
better articles. A front parlour on the ground-
floor served as the only sitting-room: behind it
was a sort of office, where my grandfather kept his
books and papers, and transacted his business with
the borrowers who called upon hita ; and an inner
door opening from this office, communicated with
a room that jutted out into the yard and which
served as Mr. Forsyth's bed-chamber. The house-
keeper occupied an upper room ; and a smaller
chamber opening therefrom, was allotted to my
use. The servant-girl's chamber was higher up
still.

From all that I have just said, the reader is
prepared to learn that Mr. Forsyth was of the
most penurious habits ; and I thought at the time
that he was exceedingly poor. Indeed, like all
misers, he was constantly complaining of poverty,
and vowing that he should be ruined if anything
which he fancied to border upon extravagance
were practised. To myself he was much attached :
but it was after his own peculiar fashion. He
would caress and fondle me — and yet not merely
grudge me a toy, but even the means of education.
I used to go to a neighbouring day-school, fre-
quented by the daughters of respectable trades-
men : but my grandfather was constantly grumbling
at the payment of the pittance which my tuition
thus cost him. Fortunate however was it for me
that the dame who kept the school was a worthy
good-hearted woman ; and she conceived a liking
for me. She said that I was the most intelligent
as well as the most docile of her pupils ; and she
took a delight in teaching me. I believe she had
some little independence of her own, and therefore
was not compelled to look too closely to the remu-
neration she received from the parents or relatives
of the girls attending her school. She frequently
kept me after school-hours, and regaled me in her
parlour — which, by its neatness and comfort, had
to me the air of a palace in comparison with the
cheerless ill-furnished parlour at home. Perhaps
she thought I was half starved; for she took a
delight in making me eat the good things which
she placed before me. Although my grandfather
would pay for no " extras," but merely wanted me
to have what he called " a plain education," yet
the worthy lady — (her name was Mrs. Kelly, and
I am glad to have an opportunity of making
honourable mention of it)— put me into the
drawing-class and also into the music-class; and
she allowed me to learn dancing. My grandfather
was delighted: he would gladly have suffered me
to acquire all possible accomplishments, so long as
he was not called upon to pay for them. Every-
thing that he himself or any one belonging to him
could get for notliing, was in his estimation an
immense gain and a subject for the extremes!;
self-felicitation. Thus, altogether, under the
tuition of that worthy and kind-hearted Mrs.
Kelly, I received a very tolerable education, em-
bellished with some few accomplishments.

I did not know what to think of Mrs. Parks,
my grandfather's housekeeper. She was kind
enougii to me : but I could not help fancying that
there was something forced, or rather artificial
and hypocritical, in this display of tenderness,
and that it was only shown in order to curry favour
with Mr. Forsyth, because he himself loved me.
I used to wonder how it was possible lor such a

ELLEN PEllCT; OU, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3.

Bour-looking old woman as Mrs. Parks, to be
sincerely good and kind towards any one. Her
countenance had a sinister expression — and never
more so than when, in a sort of canting tone, she
was lavishing praises upon me in the presence of
my grandfather. Over him she evidently wielded
an immense influence, though he himself did not
choose to acknowledge it : on the contrary, when-
ever, with her wonted hypocritical air of deference,
she proflfered her advice on any point, he vowed he

would do the very reverse and yet her counsel

was always followed ! She had been with him for
a great number of years : she used to sit with us
in the parlour, and was treated almost as an equal
—though she invariably said "sir" when speaking
to my grandfather, and used to call me " Miss
Ellen." The influence she possessed over Mr. For-
syth had not been acquired by tyranny : nor was
it ever asserted in a dominating spirit. It was the
influence that was obtained insidiously, in the
thousand and one ways in which such a woman
could render herself necessary to such a man. For
when I was alone with my grandfather, he would
frequently tell me how faithful a creature Mrs.
Parks was — how economically she managed his
little household — how kind she was to myself —
and how irreparable would be her loss if anything
should happen to her. And yet it would some-
times occur to me, notwithstanding these praises
bestowed upon the housekeeper— and notwith-
standing the vehement assertion of his own in-
dependence in opposition to any advice she might
at times proffer, as I have already stated— that
my grandfather experienced more or less fear of
Mrs. Parks ; and when this idea was in my mind,
I fancied it was because he was afraid that she
should leave him and procure some better situa-
tion.

She had for many long years been a widow ;
and she had a son, who was clerk to a lawyer
living at York. Thomas Parks was an individual
of by no means prepossessing appearance : he was
about five-and-thirty-years of age when I was ten
or eleven : he had red hair and whiskers, a face
covered with freckles, and eyelashes that were
almost white. He wore spetacles, and had a de-
mure look : indeed methought that his limp white
neckcloth and his invariable suit of seedy black
gave him that pseudo-sanctimonious aspect which
characterizes the hypocrite who would fain pass
for a saint. There was something unpleasantly
fawning and cringing in his manner, as well as
whining and snivelling in his tone. He had a
wife and a perfect swarm of children : for one day
Mrs. Parks took me, as a very great treat, to York,
when she was going on a brief holiday-visit to her
son ; and on that occasion I formed the acquaint-
ance of the entire family. Occasionally — once per-
haps in every three months— Mr. Parks came over
to Leeds to see his mother : it was invariably upon
a Sunday— and my grandfather permitted him to
dine at his table. This was the only guest I ever
saw at the house, with the exceptions which I
shall presently have to name; and it might be
considered an extraordinary proof of Mr. For^iyth's
regard for Mrs. Parks, or else of his desire to do
an occasional thing to conciliate her, that he should
thus, even at distant intervals, permit another
mouth to feed itself at his board. And while
talking of the table, I may as well add that though

there was always a sufficiency of food, and that
Mrs. Kelly's apprehension of my being half-starved
was by no means well-founded, — yet the utmost
parsimony was observed in respect to the dishes
themselves, and the viands were hashed up again
and again until the uttermost morsel was disposed
of.

I am now about to specify the exceptions to
which I have just alluded. But I must previously
explain that I had been told my parents had died
when I was quite an infant ; and when on two or
three occasions I had mentioned to my grandfather
the vague and shadowy impression I experienced
of the scene alluded to in the opening sentences of
my narrative, he assured me it was mere fancy,
for that I had never been in a position to be so
caressed, sobbed and wept over, within the range
of my memory, inasmuch as I was only a few
months old when my father and mother were car-
ried off by the same malignant disease. The
reader has of course understood that Mr. Forsyth
was my maternal grandfather — my own surname
being Percy. I knew that I had an aunt— my
father's only sister, and who was a widow. Mr.
Wakefield, her deceased husband, had been a
manufacturer in a small way at Sheffield, and by
the closest application to business he ruined his
health — so that he sank into the grave before he
had lived long enough to overcome the difficulties
attendant upon entering into business with a very
limited capital. From the wrecks of his property
a sufficiency was saved to purchase a small annuity
for Mrs. Wakefield : but she, being a woman of
thrifty habits and excellent disposition, contrived
to maintain herself and her fatherless boy in
modest respectability.

I was about ten years of age when one morn-
ing, amidst an infinity of grumblings on the part
of my grandfather, I gleaned the intelligence that
he had invited Mrs. Wakefield to pass a week with
him. I was overjoyed at the idea of seeing my
aunt and my cousin Henry ; and I asked a thou-
sand questions concerning them. It however ap-
peared that Mr. Forsyth himself had not seen
them since the death of Mr. Wakefield, on which
occasion he went to Sheffield to attend the funeral
and to counsel the widow as to the best course she
could adopt with reference to the difficulties in
which her h'jsband's loss had suddenly plunged
her. All I could therefore ascertain was, that my
aunt Wakefield must be about six-and-thirty years
of age, and my cousin Harry about twelve. It
appeared that Mrs. Wakefield had written to Mr.
Forsysth to consult him as to the best means of
getting her son into a respectable free-school where
the old gentleman had some little influence : but
before he would use it, he, with characteristic
caution, desired to be better acquainted with the
lad himself. Thus— doubtless after much hesita-
tion and with considerable reluctance — he had de-
termined to stretch a point and go to the expense
of entertaining Mrs. Wakefield and Henry for an
entire week. Perhaps the old gentleman likewise
deemed it his duty to affi^rd me an opportunity of
becoming acquainted with my relatives, whom I
had never yet seen and had only distantly heard
of.

Furniture was hired— (my grandfather would
have thought it an unpardonable waste of money
to purchase the articles) —for a couple of the long-

ELLEN PEECT ; OR, THE MEMOIHO OF AS ACTRESS.

ehut-up chambers; and on the appointed day my
aunt and cousin arrived. A pale, pretty, lady-like
woman, with the sweetest and most amiable ex-
pression of countenance, — and a tall, genteel,
slender lad, looking two years older than he really
was, with a profile of remarkable classic beauty
and large brown eyes shaded by ebon lashes, —
these were the relatives to whom I was now intro-
duced, and who received me in their arms. I wept
for very joy. The old cheerless house seemed irra-
diated with their presence ; and there was the ex-
quisite charm of novelty in the excitement attend-
ing their arrival. And then too, it was so sweet
for me, who had never known any other relation
than my old, withered, cadaverous grandfather, to
be clasped in the arms of those who appeared per-
fectly beautiful in my eyes. My aunt treated me
as one whom she had long yearned to behold, but
from whom circumstances had kept her apart. She
smiled and wept upon me, pressing me again and
again to her bosom. As for my cousin, — with the
natural frankness of his truly generous heart, he
seemed determined to become intimate with me at
once : there was no cold ceremony, no awkward
shyness nor reserve on his part — and we were soon
" Cousin Harry" and " Cousin Nelly" to one an-
other.

How happily passed that week ! It constituted
one of those periods which are marked with golden
letters in the existence of mortals. It was in the
middle of summer, during the vacation of Mrs.
Kelly's school ; and therefore I was enabled to de-
vote all my time to my aunt Wakefield and my
cousin Harry. I liked Harry from the very first
moment : there was something so cordial without
absolute forwardness in his manner — something so
frank and open-hearted that it was impossible to
help being pleased with him — almost fascinated, if
I may apply such a term to the feelings of a girl
of ten years of age, as I was at that time.

One day I found myself alone with my aunt
"Wakefield — Mr. Forsyth having gone with Henry
to visit the master of the free-school in a neigh-
bouring town. My aunt questioned me upon a
variety of subjects ; and though I was too young
and inexperienced at the time to comprehend the
considerate delicacy with which her queries were
put, — yet at later periods, when I have recalled to
mind the particulars of that interview, I have seen
and appreciated all which I was then unable to
understand. She evidently strove to glean whether
I was happy with my grandfather — whether Mrs.
Parks was kind to me — and whether I had a suffi-
ciency of necessaries and comforts. I wore my
best apparel all the time my aunt and Henry were
at the house : and I did not like to tell Mrs. Wake-
field that ordinarily in the week-days I felt that I
was shabby and that I had even been taunted with
that shabbiness by my schoolfellows. I endea-
voured to give the most satisfactory answers to all
questions ; for indeed I was naturally of a con-
tented, but shy and timid disposition. I spoke
highly of Mrs. Kelly; and my aunt went with me
to call upon this lady, that she might personally
thank her for all her goodness towards me.

" I can assure you, my dear madam," said the
kind-hearted dame, " Ellen is quite a pet cf mine:
but she deserves it. She is very pretty, though I
ought not to say so in her presence : but what i^
far better, she is good. As for her intelligence, i-

is truly remarkable — and she is very fond of learn-
ing."

" Do you not think she is rather delicate P" I
heard my aunt ask in a whisper, but which was
nevertheless just audible to my ears.

"No— her health is good," replied Mrs. Kelly.
" She has attended my school for the last four years,
and has never had a day's illness. She is tall for
her age — she is only ten, you know — and she looks
twelve. Her figure is slender — but so genteel ! In
short, my dear madam, she is the genteelest looking
as well as the prettiest and the best girl in my school.
I am very much mistaken if she will not grow up to
be a most lovely creature. Did you ever see such
silky black hair, with such a raven gloss upon it-
such superb dark eyes — such sweet features, espe-
cially those vermilion lips of her's, with that beau-
tiful smile 1"

"Yes— she is all that," answered Mrs. Wake-
field : " and I hope ■"

But here she stopped short, and heaved a pro-
found sigh.

" You hope that her grandpapa," added Mrs.
Kelly, '•' will make such provisions as shall place
her under proper guardianship at his death. But
you yourself, my dear madam, will doubtless be-
come her guardian ?"

Mrs. Wakefield gave some response, which did
not reach my ears. I was sitting in the window-
recess of the little parlour where this discourse took
place; and I could not help overhearing it. But
I was looking through the window— or rather my
face was turned that way; and therefore neither
the schoolmistress nor my aunt had any reason to
suspect that I did overhear them. The conver-
sation made a deep impression on my mind ; and
therefore I have recorded it here. It was the first
time I ever knew that I had the slightest claim to
good looks. Mrs. Parks had been wont to praise
my proficiencies in study — but never my personal
beauty. It would be a miserable affectation to pre-
tend that I was not pleased on learning that I was
considert^d pretty : but the knowledge thereof did
not instil the faintest tincture of vanity in my
mind. All the value which, according to the girlisti
notions of my naturally shy disposition, I attached
to the beauty of personal appearance, was centred
in the hope that it might render me more pleasing
to those whose good opinion I esteemed.

On returning with my aunt to the house, we
continued to discourse together ; and I at length
timidly ventured to ask some question relative to
my parents. I say timidly — because I had noticed
that my grandfather was invariably either annoyed
or afflicted whenever I had questioned him ou the
same subject. I now perceived that Mrs. Wake-
field averted her countenance ; and, as I continued
to gaze upon her, I observed that the tears were
trickling down her pale cheeks. I threw myself
into her arms, beseeching her to forgive me for
having touched upon a topic which made her
weep.

" You have no forgiveness to ask, my dear
child," she responded : " the question was natural

equally natural too is it that I should weep

on account of your parents. They are lost to you,

my poor child they were lost to you in your

infancy ! Would that it had been permitted to
me to supply the place of your mother : but cir-
cumstances prevented it !"

ELLEX PBKCT; OU, THE lIEilOIES OP AN ACTEKS3.

For some few moments I was half suffocated
vith mj ovrn tears and sobs; and then I asked,
"Hovr old was I, dear aunt, when my parents
died ?"

" Why do you put this question, Ellen ?" in-
quired Mrs. Wakefield, looking fixedly upon my
countenance as I gazed up at her.

I blushed and became confused : but quickly re-
covering my frank and artless self-possession, I
looked up into her face again, and candidly re-
vealed that idea which had ever appeared to haunt
me like the reminiscence of something which had
actually bappered at the earliest period of my con-
sciousness of existence. Mrs. Wakefield listened
with what I fancied to be a sad and mournful in-
terest ; and when I had finished speaking, she said,
" Banish this idea, my sweet child, from your mind.
It is a delusion under which you are labouring— it
has no foundation in fact:"— and then, after a few
moments' pause, she added in a still lower tone, at
the same time bending her face down until it
almost touched mine, and pressing her hand
oiressingly over the masses of my dark hair —
'• You lost your parents, Ellen, when you were
tjo young to know them."

Almost immediately after these words were
spoken, I beheld my grandfather and Harry pass
tie window; and I bounded away to open the
f;ont door for them. At the instant I opened the
piilour door, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Parks
hastening along the passage to the staircase ; and
the suspicion flashed to my mind that she had been
listening to the discourse between my aunt and
myself. I scarcely know why I should have
t-iought so ; for the old housekeeper might just as
well have been coming from the kitchen, or from
one of the back rooms, as to hare been passing
away from the vicinage of the parlour-door.
Nevertheless, the idea did occur to me ; and it
excited a momentary trouble in my mind. But
I speedily forgot the incident when my cousin
Harry came bounding joyously towards me, ex-
claiming that Mr. Forsyth had procured him the
promise of admittance to the Free Grammar
Soliool after the current vacation.

Happiness was dancing in my cousin's handsome
brown eyes; and my heart thrilled with the trans-
fusing influence of the joy which he thus ex-
perienced. He ran to embrace his mother, and
acquaint her with the good tidings— for which she
Warmly expressed her gratitude to Mr. Forsyth,

On the following day Aunt Wakefield and
Cousin Harry took their departure : tears were
upon their cheeks — and torrents were raining down
my onn, as they bestowed upon me the farewell
einbrnces. And when they were gone, how I
missed them both !— how I continued to weep as I
looked at the vacant seats, where I no longer en-
countered the kind dove-like regards of my affec-
tionate aunt, nor the ingenuous expression of my
cousin's dark-brown eyes. And how cheerless the
old bouse appeared again— —Ob, how cheerless !

^ CHAPTER II.

THE STBAiraEB.

About six months had elapsed after the visit of
Mrs. Wakefield and her son ; and during this in-
terval I received two or three kind letters from
them both. Harry was installed at the seminary
where the benevolence of some long deceased phi-
lanthropist had provided that a certain number of
fatherless boys should be genteelly educated for a
sum so small that it was almost nominal. My
cousin was delighted with the establishment ; and
he declared that he should do his best to profit by
the advantages of instruction which were thus
afforded him.

It was one afternoon, a half-holiday — I remem-
ber it full well — in the middle of December, in the
year 1832 — I was sitting alone with my grand-
father in the parlour, Mrs. Parks being temporarily
absent at the time. It was about three o'clock;
and the dusk was closing in thus early in the
depth of that winter-season. We were close by
the window; and I had some ten minutes back laid
aside my book in consequence of the growing ob-
scurity. Mr. Forsyth bad been talking to me :
but there was at the moment a pause in the con-
versation. All of a sudden I beheld a man, who
was muffled in an ample cloak, and who wore a
somewhat battered hat, the broad brims of which
slouched, stop in front of the house and look up at
it. For a few moments I thought nothing parti-
cular of the incident: but as the individual re-
mained there in the middle of that narrow street
— now looking up and down, and then up at the
house again — I directed my grandfather's attention
to the person. At the same instant the individual
came close up to the window, and deliberately looked
over the blind. The dusk was not too great to
prevent me from easily observing all this — nor to
prevent the man himself from seeing into the
room, where the fire (never too good a one in that
parlour) was throwing a glimmering light around.

My grandfather uttered some ejaculation-
started — then sank back into the seat again— and
appeared to be smitten with a sudden trouble, or
else with illness. I was alarmed, and besought
him to tell me what was the matter. Then I
looked again to the window : — the man was gone.

Mr. Forsyth could not speak : a strange terror
appeared to have come over him : he was half
choking — and ho gazed at me with a ghastly ex-
pression. At the same instant I heard the latch-
key moving in the front-door lock: I knew it was
Mrs. Parks who was entering ; and I rushed out
of the room to summon her to my grandfather.
The man in the cloak pushed rudely and roughly
by the old woman — pushed by me also — and made
his way into the parlour.

" Ah ! it is you ?" gasped my grandfather : and
he rose up from his seat, tottering and staggering.

" Oh, you know me, then ?" said the mau, toss-
ing off his battered hat: and then turning towards

me, he said, " Ah ! is this the girl ? Come

But pshaw 1" and all in a moment his tone and
his manner appeared to express some feeling of
contempt with which he was smitten on his own
account.

"Leave us, Ellen — leave us, Ellen," said my

ELIEN PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN A0TEES8.

grandfather, in accents which were so tremulous
with emotion that instead of obeying his mandate,
I rushed towards him.

Seizing his hand, I exclaimed, " Do not send me
from you ! You are ill— you are frightened ! -^—
What does this man want ?"

"Go, Ellen— go!" said my grandfather, now
speaking with a sudden sternness. " I insist upon
your leaving us! This is a— a— man— a— a gentle-
man— who has come to me on business."

"To be sure !" said the stranger : and he coolly
seated himself.

I was now compelled to obey my grandfather :
but I did so most reluctantly : and on quitting the
parlour, I beheld Mrs. Parks standing at the foot
of the staircase. She impatiently beckoned me
towards her; and then said in a whisper, " Go up- ■
stairs for the present, ]VUss Ellen: you see that
your grandfather wants to be alone."

I obeyed ; and for half-an-hour I sat in my own I
chamber up-stairs, with a deeply troubled mind,
and marvelling what that stranger could want —
who he could possibly be— and what meant his
singular expressions and conduct in reference to
myself. The dusk deepened into darkness; and
there I remained, in my chamber, not liking to go
down stairs again until I might receive permission
to that effect. Mrs. Parks had not come up with
me : she had remained below — but whether to
enter the parlour or to attend to her avocations
elsewhere, I knew not. That she herself had
some inkling of the man's business, whatever it
were, I entertained the suspicion; and I could not
help thinking that even if she had not penetrated
into the parlour to join in the discourse she was
listening at the door.

I strove to recollect the stranger's appearance
as well as I could— though in the confusion of the
scene and the obscurity of the room, I had not
been enabled to observe him much more minutely
than when I had just before seen him in the street.
So far as I recollected or could estimate, he was
about forty years of age, with a dark weather-
beaten countenance, and a piercing pair of black
eyes. I knew that he was of tall stature ; and his
garments indicated poverty. His voice was rough,
and even coarse in its accents ; and there was a
mingled insolence, confidence, and hardihood in his
speech and manner, so that he almost seemed as if
he felt conscious of some power to command a re-
ception, even though it were not a welcome one, in
my grandfather's parlour.

I had been frightened by the incident ; and as
darkness was closing in around, cold nervous ter-
rors crept over me. Gradually into my mind came
the recollection that I had heard some vague and
uncertain whispers of how a long time back a
murder had been committed within the walls of
that house ; and I trembled from head to foot as I
shudderingly swept my looks around with the
hideous apprehension that I should see some
appalling shape stand suddenly out of the dark-
ness. But all in a moment the door opened — a
light streamed in upon me : it was Mrs. Parks who
came to say that the gentleman was gone and that
I might go down stairs again. When I rejoined
my grandfather, he took me in his arms and
caressed me with even a greater fondness than he
had ever yet displayed : but I saw that he was
Btill trembling violently— evidently with the effect

of a recent strong agitation. I longed to question
him — but dared not. He made no allusion to
the incident which I have been relating; but fre-
quently throughout that evening did he caress me
in the most affectionate manner. Several days
elapsed before he completely recovered from the
excitement into which he had evidently been
thrown ; and many weeks passed away before the
impression of that scene wore partially away from
my mind.

Two years went by without any incident worthy
of notice ; but during that interval I continued to
receive occisional letters from Mrs. Wakefield and
from Harry, all full of kindness, and all expressing
the hope that my grandfather would allo'v me tj
visit them some day at Slieffield during one of the
vacations. Mr. Forsyth would not however hear
of my leaving him ; and whenever I read those
passages in my aunt's and cousin's letters, the old
man appeared to be seized with a nervous excite-
ment; and laying his tremulous hand upon my
shoulder, he would exclaim, "No, no, my dear
child — no one shall take you from me !"

I was now some months past twelve years old—
the autumn of 1834 was merging into winter —
November was close at hand — the settled cold was
coming on apace. One day my grandfather did
not get up to breakfast ; and Mrs. Parks told me
that he was somewhat indisposed, but that by a
day's nursing he would doubtless be restored to hirf
wonted health. I asked permission to go in and
see him ; and it was granted. I had never before
— at least not to my knowledge — been in his bed-
chamber ; for he had ever forbidden me to go
even into his office, as he called the back room
from which that chamber opened. I was now
struck with the wretchedness of the room in which
he lay. It jutted out into the yard — forming as
it were a little building of itself, which seemed to
have been added on at some time to the back wall
of the house. Some wretched old drapery was
nailed up behind the bedstead and to a beam above
it : the bed itself was low, ricketty, dirty, and
comfortless : a fragment of carpet, the colours of
which had long faded out, was stretched upon the
floor. There were two or three rush-bottomed
chairs, of a quaint old-fashioned style ; and there
was an antique chest of drawers, with a sloping top
which might be let down on pieces of wood that
puUed out, so as to form an escritore. Let it be
remembered that I entertained the impression that
my grandfather was poor : but I was shocked at
the seeming penury which to my mind this
wretched room naturally betokened. My own
chamber and that of Mrs. Parks — though sordid
enough,- heaven knows— were better furnished than
this. Bursting into tears, I threw myself upon
my grandfather's breast, and wept bitterly.

" Don't cry, Ellen," he said, mistaking the cause

of my grief: "I shall be better soon Indeed

I am already much improved since the morn-
ing "

" For heaven's sake, my dear grandpapa," I ex-
claimed, " let us send for a doctor !"

" A doctor ?" he almost yelled forth : " at your
peril do it ! I knew that the instant I said I was
at all unwell, there would be a talk of the doctor :
but no doctor shall enter my house ! Mrs. Parks
can nurse me she is a good kind woman
and faithful too— I think— I hope."

SUiBir PEBCT ; OB, THE MEU0IB3 07 AS ACTBES8.

But the old man appeared to speak with a sort
of gasping effort, as if he were not in reality so
completely convinced of his housekeeper's disin-
terested fidelity as he endeavoured to persuade
himself that he was.

" But your room, dear grandpapa," I exclaimed,
" is so uncomfortable — the draught comes in from
that window — there is no curtain to it— there are

no proper draperies to the bed "

" Curtains enough, Ellen !" interjected Mr.
Forsyth. " What more would you have ? Would
—would you bave me buy new ones ? It would
ruin me ! And as for the doctor, he would run
up such a bill, I never, never could pay it — and
you would see your poor old grandfather die in a
debtor's gaol, Ellen!"

*' Heaven forbid !" I murmured, amidst the sobs
that now convulsed me ; for I firmly believed he
was speaking the precise truth, and that he bad no
money to spare.

I did the best I could to make the room seem
comfortable— or, in other words, I put it into as
good order as circumstances would permit ; and for
that day I remained away from school. For the
three or four following days, however, I was com-
pelled to go to school, though my grandfather re-
mained ill in bed and I besought permission to
attend upon him. But Mrs. Parks suggested, with
an air of great seeming kindness, that a sick
chamber was not the place for a young girl like
me, and that moreover the school-bill must be paid
whether I went or not. This last hint was suffi-
cient for my grandfather, who declared it would be
ruin and literally picking his pocket if he had to
pay for anything which I did not receive the ad-
vantage of. Therefore I was compelled to go :
but on the fifth morning Mrs, Kelly, seeing how
unhappy I was, declared that she would give the
girls a whole holiday ; and I knew it was entirely
as an excuse to enable me to return home and
attend to my grandfather.

I sped homeward as if on the wings of the wind :
the front door was standing ajar — I opened and
closed it very gently, so as not to make a noise in
the house— and I entered the parlour. There I
found Mrs. Parks seated in front of the fire, with
her son the clerk to the lawyer at York. Their
heads were at the instant very close together j and
they seemed to be in a whispering conversation
from the midst of which my unexpected entrance
abruptly disturbed them. They started up : Tom
Parks (as I had heard him familiarly called) was
very much in confusion ; and his mother had an
expression of countenance which absolutely fright-
ened me. But the next instant it vanished ; and
resuming her wonted carneying kindness of manner,
she asked what had brought me home so soon ?

I explained that Mrs. Kelly had given the
school a whole holiday; and Mrs. Parks said,
"Well, Miss Ellen, you shall come in with me
and see your grandpapa. I hope he is better.
But— but— my dear child — you need not say you

saw Mr. Parks here He only just dropped in

to ask how your dear grandpapa is; and it might
annoy the old gentleman to think that visitors
came while he is lying ill in bed and unable to re-
ceive them."

I was thinking so much of my poor grandfather
at the time, and was so impatient to get to him,
that I readily promised to follow Mrs. Parks's in-

junction. For the rest of that day I was almost
entirely by the sick couch. The following day was
the Sabbath : I went to church with my school-
girls in the' morning as usual ; and for the re-
mainder of that day also I ministered to Viy in-
valid relative. I feared that he was getting worse,
though he declared that he was better, and that
some medicine for which he had sent from the
chemist's, was doing him a world of good. And
so indeed it appeared : for on the ensuing morn-
ing Mr. Forsyth declared that he was almost well
enough to get up, and that therefore I might go
to school.

I did so : but when I went home to dinner at
one o'clock, as usual, I found my grandfather still
in bed ; and when I again returned at five to tea,
I felt convinced that he was worse than he had
yet been. Young though I was, something told
me that be was sinking. I besought him to take
a gla?s of wine. At first he vowed that such ex-
travagance would be his ruin : but he evidently
felt that be wanted it ; and this feeling got the
better of bis niggardness. He took some wine;
and then he slept soundly for several hours.

It was near ten o'clock that evening when he
awoke ; and he declared that he was so much
better that I might retire to my own chamber with
the conviction of finding him convalescent in tho
morning. I withdrew accordingly, my heart full
of hope : but on seeking my room I did not expe-
rience the faintest inclination for slumber. I knelt
down and prayed that heaven would spare my
grandfather yet awhile, and that his words might
be fulfilled relative to the improvement of hia
health within the lapse of the next twelve hours.
Then I sat upon my pallet, giving way to thought
— wondering whether Mrs. Parks would sit up all
night with my grandfather— and if she did not,
whether he might not require some ministration
while she slept ? I knew that the servant-girl
would not be employed for such a purpose ; and
then I thought to myself it would be cruel for a
woman of the housekeeper's age to be deprived of
her natural rest night after night, as she had pro-
bably been.

I gently opened the door of communication be-
tween our two chambers : Mrs. Parks was not
there. I thought that I would descend— just
see how my grandfather was getting on— and beg
Mrs. Parks to awake me at three or four in tho
morning, so that I might take her place by the
sick couch and she might have an opportunity of
a few hours' repose. Gently I crept down the
staircase, without a light : noiselessly did I open
the door of the office ; and I was advancing through
this room, when certain words which came from the
inner one transfixed me to the spot.

"And if you do not fulfil the oath you have
taken — if you fail in one single particular — may
the curse of a dying man cling to you for the re-
mainder of your existence! — may it poison the
very springs of that existence ! — may it stifle your /
last prayer in your throat when your own time
shall also come !— and may it hurry your soul into
everlasting perdition !"

These were the terrific, the fearful, the appalling
words which came upon my ears, smiting my very
brain as it were with blow upon blow — making my
hair stand on end — curdling my young blood in my
veins.

ELIEW PEBCT; OE, the MEMOIES op an ACTEES8.

And in what an altered voice too were those
syllables spoken !— as if that voice were contending
difiScultlj and painfully with a hoarse impeding
rattling in the throat ; and as if the strongest
efforts were required to enable it to dominate over
the gaspings which would otherwise have convulsed
and strangled.

" I have sworn," replied Mrs. Parks. " What
deeper oath can I take P and why, sir, do you seem
to doubt me ?"

" I don't say that I doubt you," answered my
grandfather, as if testily and irritably : " but I
know the world so well that even the spectacles of
death-beds do not always Ah !" and he gasped
" make survivors do their duty. My death-
bed is mean, wretched, and desolate enough ! I
feel it now — I know it now ! I might have had
friends around me— relatives also But no !"

There was another painful gasp; and then my
grandfather added, " Here I am friendless— forlorn
— B wretched old man !"

" Cease these lamentations, dear sir," said the
housekeeper. " Shall I give you water ? you have
more to tell me "

" Yes— and I must make haste," continued my
grandfather ; " for my strength is failing me. — Ah !
this change which took place so suddenly "

Here he gasped again : his voice seemed choking :
methought he must be dying. I glided through
the office : — the reader will have understood that
the door of his chamber stood partially open ; and
I had reached the threshold above the half.dozen
steps which led up into it, when again was I trans-
fixed— petrified — with the blood congealed in my
veins, bj the next words which came from my
grandfather's lips.

" Yes — may my withering, blighting curse cling
to you if you violate your oath ! May it wrap it-
self around you like a poisoned garment— eating
into your flesh— devouring the tendons— scorching
the fibres— searing, burning, and rotting your very
nerves! On the other hand my blessing — the
blessing of heaven, and of all the angels in it, will
be yours if you act faithfully to your solemn, sacred
vow !"

"I will, sir— I will !" said Mrs. Parks. "(Jo on,
sir ! — I beseech you to finish !"

"There— in that bureau," resumed my grand-
father, speaking with increasing difficulty, " there
is a secret recess— —it is behind the middle drawer

you press upon what seems to be the head

of a screw— it touches a spring— the receptacle be-
comes revealed. The document is there ! Take
it— act as I have told you— act as you yourself
have sworn— and may heaven bless you !"

I was standing, as I have said, upon the thresh-
old ; and from that point, by leaning slightly for-
ward, I could look into the interior of the cham-
ber. The light of a solitary candle played with
flickering sickliness upon the ghastly countenance
of the old man, — that countenance which, habi-
tually cadaverous, was now yellow and corpse-
like as he sat up in the miserable bed, pointing
with his lank lean hand towards the escritoire.
The housekeeper had her back towards me: she
was standing by the side of the couch ; and I could
not catch a glimpse of her face. I felt an inclina-
tion to precipitate myself into my grandfather's
arms ; but the spell of mingled awe and terror was
upon me— my feet seemed rooted to the spot. The

candle was upon a table close under the window
the night was beautifully clear— the moon was
shining— and there was a hard frost. Just at the
very instant that my grandfather had given utter-
ance to those last words, while still pointing to the
escritoire— and with the feeble rays of the candle
playing upon his ghastly countenance — another
countenance appeared !

It was at the window: some one looked in unto
the room. I knew the face in a moment: — it was
that of the stranger whose visit two years back
had so much troubled me !

"There! there!— 'tis he!" exclaimed tho dying
man : and almost at the same instant a scream
thrilled from my own lips.

The countenance disappeared from the window :
the housekeeper started as if galvanized : my
grandfather lay gasping in the last agonies of exist-
ence. I flew towards him — I knelt by the side of
the bed ; and taking his hand, strained it to my
lips. He knew me: he made an effort to say
something — but he could not. He pressed my
hand : more audibly sounded the deadly rattle in
his throat — and in a few moments all was silent,
save the expression of my agony !

Oh ! deep was the anguish which I experienced
for a few minutes : and then there came the awfu',
the solemn, the almost stupifying conviction that
I was looking upon death for the first time. This
sensation was gradually absorbed in a certain in-
describable numbness of feeling ; and how long I
remained in that state I can scarcely tell. I recol-
lect that Mrs. Parks, speaking to me with every
appearance of the utmost kindness and sjmpatby,
induced me to leave the chamber of death : and
she led me to my own room. There she assured
me that I should always fiud a friend in her, and
that she would never desert me. Oh ! how neces-
sary consolation was to me then ! I forgot her
ugliness — I forgot the sinister expression of her
looks — I forgot the suspicions of her sincerity
which had so often floated in my mind. Tears
came to my relief: I wept in her arms— I thanked
her for all she was saying to me.

Crently did she continue to speak. She asked
me how long I had been upon the threshold of
the chamber : I frankly told her wherefore I had
descended from my room— how long I had been
listening — everything I had heard— and what I
bad seen at the window.

She listened with the deepest attention ; and
when I had finished, she said, " Yes, my sweet
child — your poor dear grandfather made me swear
that I would never desert you ; and I will not ! I
dare say the paper in the escritoire contains an ac-
count of whatsoever little money he may possess

1 know it cannot be much ; for, as you have

seen, he was very poor. Eut whatever the amount,
it is all for your benefit. As for that stranger

who dared to look in at the window "

" Is he indeed a stranger to you ?" I asked.
"Assuredly !" responded Mrs. Parks. " I never

saw him before that time, you know But I

daresay he is some evil-intentioned man ; and we
must guard against him. Now get to bed, my
dear child— and sleep, if possible."

"One word more!" I said, almost suffocated
with the anguish that oppressed me. " Must I
Dot write to my aunt and cousin to-morrow, to tell
theoa of the dreadful thing that has happened P"

Mrs. Parks appeared to reflect deeply for a few
minutes ; and then she said with a quickness as if
there had really been no necessity for such delibe-
ration, " Oh ! certainly, my dear child ! By all
means write to your relations to-morrow !"

Oq the following day I wrote accordingly. In
the evening, when I was seated with the house-
keeper in the little parlour, and tearfully and
mournfully I was speaking of my grandfather's
death, she renewed all her protestations of un-
utterable kindness.

" But there is one thing, my dear child, I wish
to impress upon you," continued Mrs. Parks. " It
would not be well to mention to 3Irs. Wakefield —
nor indeed to any living soul — the circumstances
attending the poor dear gentleman's death. Every
one would be horrified to think that instead of
spending his last moments in prayer, he should
have given himself up altogether to worldly con-
yo. 2.— EiLEX Peect.

siderations. The clergyman, you know, would not
afford him Christian burial if he knew it !"

" Good heavens !" I ejaculated, shocked at the
idea. " I would not for the world give utterance
to a syllable that should produce so frightful a re-
suit!"

" And therefore, my dear child," continued Mrs.
Parks, "you need only say that you were present
at your grandfather's death, and that you heard
him confide yourself to my charge, according to
the provisions of a document which he placed at
my disposal. And as there should be nothing of
a horrid or shocking character told about a death-
bed, you need not speak of the appearance of
that impudent evil-disposed stranger at the win-
dow."

Conceiving Mrs. Parks's arguments and recom-
mendations to be strictly reasonable — and indeed
admiring her for what I fancied to be her regard

BLLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEEBS.

for the reputation of her deceased master — I
readily promised to follow her counsel.

In the evening of the ensuing day my aunt and
cousin arrived at the house ; and with tears again
streaming from my eyes, was I received in their
embrace. Few were the questions put to me in
reference to my grandfather's death. I answered
them in accordance with the recommendations of
the housekeeper ; and not being pressed on any
particular point, there was not the slightest neces-
sity for evasion, much less untruthfulness on my
part.

CHAPTEE ni.

VAEIODS CHAHGES OS CIECtTMSTANCBS.

The funeral took place in a very quiet and priyat©
manner ; for the deceased had no friends to follow
his remains to the grave, and no relatifes por
family-connexions besides myself, Mrs. "Wakefield,
and Harry. Mrs. Parks however begged of my
aunt as a favour that her son Thomas might be
allowed to attend the interment, — the old womap
alleging that he had always been very much at-
tached to the deceased. As for myself, I was over-
whelmed with aiBiction when I beheld the cofEu
borne out of the house ; and it was long ere Mrs.
Wakefield could succeed in consoling me. Even
then I begged that I might be permitted to shut
myself up alone in my chamber for a few hours ;
— and this I did.

It was evening when I descended again to the
parlour ; and there I found Mrs. Parks seated with
her son, Mrs. Wakefield, and H»rry. My aunt
wept as she strained me in her arms ; and I could
not help thinking that there was in her caresses
the evidence of a commiseration and compassion
for some reason apart from the actual loss which
I had sustained in the death of my grandfather.
My cousin Henry too looked profoundly mournful ;
atffl t ars were glistening in his brown eyes as they
were bent in sadness upon me. Then Mfs. Parks
declared over and over again that she would do
everything to promote my happiness; and I
thanked her with all the sincerity of my young,
trustful, inexperienced heart.

On the following day, shortly after breakfast, I
found myself alone with my aunt and cousin; and
the former said to me, " We are going to bid jou
farewell, dear Ellen, in the course of an hour or
two."

" Bid me farewell P" I exclaimed, bursting into
tears ; for all in a moment a subject on which I
had hitherto scarcely thought was excited in my
mind : namely, where and with whom I was
thenceforth to live ?

"Yes, my dear child," answered Mrs. Wake-
field, who was evidently much affected, though she
endeavoured to conceal her emotions as well as
she could ; " your deceased grandfather made cer-
tain arrangements which must be carried out. Al-
though I have not been selected as the guardian of
your welfare, it is not the less dear to me on that
account. Mrs. Parks has consulted me— we have
discoursed together — and she has sketched out a
plan of which I completely approve. You will
h^re opportunities for instruction such as have

hitherto been unknown to you; and I am con-
vinced that you will avail yourself of them. Do
not weep, dearest Ellen ! I know that you love

me — and your cousin Harry likewise It is

hard for you to separate from us rbut circum-
stances are imperative — and this is a trial which •
your heart has to bear !"

I was weeping bitterly, and my voice waa
choked with convulsing sobs. My aunt and
Harry wept also ; and the latter vehemently ex-
claimed, " Why, dear mother, cannot Ellen come
and live with us altogether P"

" You are both too young to have all these
things explained to you," answered Mrs. Wake-
field: "but rest assured that if everything be not
as I could have wished, it is at least according to
an authority which I cannot dispute. You will

write to us frequently, Ellen -And remember,

my dear child — remember," added Mrs. Wakefield
impressively, " if you should ever have any cause
for unhappiness, you must not hesitftlte to open
your heart to me."

But I will not linger upon this scene. Suffice
it to say that in another hour or two I was com-
pelled to bid adieu to imy ai^at and cousin : many,
m*ny tears on both sides were shed ; and when
the door closed behind them, I felt as if my young
heart must burst in twain.

Thomas Parks still remained at the house; and
for the ensuing ten days did he sojourn there.
Then he took his departure; and on leaving, I
beard him say to his mother that they should
shortly meet in London. When he was gone Mrs.
Parks asked me if I should like to visit the metro-
polis P — and I believe I answered in the atfirma-
tive ; though it was a matter of complete indif-
ference to me whither I went or where I lived, so
unhappy was I. At the expiration of a week Mrs.
Parks told me to go and bid farewell to Mrs.
Kelly, as we were about to depart from Leeds and
repair to Loudon. The worthy old schoolmistress
embraped me affectionately, and gave me some
good advice — though she wound up by observing
that she scarcely thought it was needful, as I was
so good a girl. I thanked her for all the kindness
she had shown me ; and the farewell scene waa
another trial for my young heart.

On the following day I set out with Mrs. Parks
for London. We travelled inside the stage-coach ;
for there were then no lines of railway connecting
the great manufacturing towns with the metro-
polis ; — and a tedious journey it was, for I had no
heart to derive any charm from its novelty. On
arriving in London, we proceeded at once to lodg-
ings which Thomas Parks had engaged for our re-
ception, and where indeed he himself was already
located. They were handsome and commodious
apartments ; and I wondered how Mrs. Parks
cou.d afford to occupy such fine lodgings : for I
believed that my grandfather had died poor, and I
could not therefore comprehend how his house-
keeper could be well off. But I asked no questions
— and no explanations were volunteered. A fort-
night was spent in visiting the various public
buildings; and the interest afforded thereby, tended
to mitigate the affliction which from various cir-
cumstances I experienced.

At the expiration of that interval Mrs. Parka
took me to a very large establishment for young
ladies in the neighbourhood of Chelsea ; and I waa

ELLEN PBBCT; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEESS!

introduced to the sclioolmisi: ess as her future pupil.
Jrom the discourse which took place between that
lady and Mrs. Parks, it was evident that a negotia-
tion for my admission to the seminary had already
been entered into. I liked the schoolmistress— I
liked the whole appearance of the place ; and more-
over I longed for the settled employment which
the renewal of my studies would afford me, in
order that the occupation of my mind should wean
me from mournful retrospections. It was agreed
that I should enter as a boarder on the following
day ; and I returned with Mrs. Parks to the lodg-
ings. I should observe that a quantity of new
apparel — but all of a mourning character — had
been purchased for me since our arrival in
London; and I could not help thinking that in
every respect the conduct of Mrs. Parks towards
me was infinitely more liberal than my grand-
father's treatment had ever been — while her man-
ner lost none of the kindness she had so studiously
shown me since the old man's death.

On going to bed that night, after the visit to
the school, I could not immediately get to sleep. I
lay awake thinking of the change which was again
taking place in my position, and of the new home
which I was to enter on the morrow. I thought
likewise of all Mrs. Parks was doing for me :
I was angry with myself for ever having fan-
cied her to be at all deceitful : I reflected
that she was most faithfully fulfilling the pro-
mises she made to my grandfather i in his last
moments ; and I wondered why he himself should
have been so far dubious of her sincerity and good
faith as he evidently was, if I might judge of the
terrific language in which he addressed her at the
time. And then too I thought of my kind affec-
tionate aunt ; and I remembered with deepest
emotion the last sad looks which had been shed
upon me at parting by my cousin's beautiful eyes.

It was between eight and nine o'clock when I
had thus retired to rest on the particular evening
of which I am speaking ; and at length a drowsi-
ness was coming over me, — when I was startled by
the neighbouring church bell proclaiming the hour
of ten. Immediately afterwards I heard the door
of the sitting-room open on the floor beneath that
where my bed-chamber was situated ; and a voice
said, " Good bye, then, for the last time."

That voice completely galvanized me; and I
started up in my bed. I recognised it in a mo-
ment! — it was the voice of that stranger whose
visit to the house at Leeds upwards of two
years back had produced such an effect upon my
grandfather, — the stranger whose countenance I
had seen at the window of his chamber on the
night of his death ! An unknown terror seized
on me as I thus started up in my couch : my
soul seemed smitten with an unaccountable trouble
— for an ominous mystery appeared to invest that
stranger.

" G-ood bye, for the last time !" were the words
he had spoken.

" Hush !" I immediately keard botli Mrs. Parks
and her son say, as if speaking in the same breath :
and then Parks himself added, '-'Yes— and take
care that it is for the last time : or else "

But I heard no more : the voice appeared sud-
denly to cease ; — and if more were said, it must
have been in the lowest possible whisper. Almost
immediately afterwards I heard the front door of

the house close ; and then getting out of bed, I
shut my own chamber door, which by an accident
I had left open. Yes— I shut it, because I did
not choose that Mrs. Parks, when ascending to
her own bed-room, should have reason to think
that I had been listening ; for she might fancy I
had done so on purpose. But it was still a long
time before sleep visited my eyes. I lay awake,
asking myself over and over again who that
stranger could be, and what he could possibly want
with Mrs. Parks and her son? Indeed, I was
astounded that they should have received him at
all, after the way in which she had spoken to me
of his unpardonable insolence in looking in at the
window on the night of my grandfather's death—
and still more especially after the opinion she had
expressed that he was an evil-disposed person.
But, as a matter of course, conjecture helped ma
not to any solution of the mystery; and in the
midst of my bewildering ruminations I sank into
slumber.

On the following day I entered as a boarder at
the school in the neighbourhood of Chelsea. It is
not my intention to dwell at unnecessary length
upon this period of my existence ; but still some
few brief observations are necessary. I was well
treated at the school, and was as liberally supplied
with pocket-money as the rest of the young ladies.
Amongst them was one named Juliet iJIorman ;
and with her I became most intimate. This
friendship which sprang up between us, was all
the more remarkable inasmuch as her disposition
was 80 different from mine : for whereas I was
timid, bashful, reserved, and pensive, as well as
exceedingly studious, she on the other hand was
forward, gay, volatile, giddy, and idle. There was
however nothing bad about her; and she was
thoroughly good-natured. She was very hand-
some, and about two years older than myself.
What her parents were, I never knew while at
school : for she rarely spoke of them — and I noticed
that on three or four occasions some allusion was
made to her father and mother in the spirit of
a spiteful taunt by some of our school companions.
The subject was evidently a sore one with Juliet
Iforman — but I could not conceive why : for that
her parents were wealthy, was apparent from the
fact that she herself was the best dressed young
lady in the school, and she had more presents from
home than any one else. Her father and mother
moreover occasionally visited her in their car-^
riage ; and therefore I was naturally at a loss to
conceive why Juliet should have any reason to be
ashamed of her parentage. I never touched upon
the subject in her presence; and I had not the
curiosity to put a question thereon to any of the
other girls.

As for the friendship which Sprang up between
Juliet and myself— I suppose it was from the cir-
cumstance that she attached herself to me almost
from the very first day of my entering the school ;
and being a senior girl, she had opportunities of
showing me kindnesses, for which I was grateful.
Though indolent herself, she did not seek to draw
me away from my own studies : on the contrary,
she commended my diligence — and with a sigh that
was stifled in a laugh, expressed the wish that she
herself resembled me. She remained two years at
the school after I entered it; and then she re-
turned no more — nor did I hear of her again

ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3.

until we met in the great world, as I shall pre-
aently have to explain.

When the first vacation arrived, Mrs. Parks
came to fetch me home ; and instead of taking me
to a lodging, it was to a handsome well-furnished
house in a genteel part of the town. She kept a
footman and three female-servants: and as the
reader may suppose, I was astonished. But still I
dared ask no questions ; and still no explanations
were given. An elegant chamber was assigned to
my use ; and the treatment I experienced was that
of unchanging kindness. I had already written to
my aunt and cousin from school, to tell them how
happily I was situated : I now wrote again to
acquaint them with Mrs. Parks's prosperity, and
the luxurious manner in which she lived. The re-
plies forwarded by Mrs. Wakefield and Harry,
expressed their joy to observe that I wrote so
cheerfully ; and my aunt's letter was worded in a
style which indicated not the least surprise at the
account I had given of Mrs. Parks's opulence. I
should add that her son Thomas was now settled in
London : he was no longer an attorney's clerk —
he lived with his wife and family in a house as
handsome as that of his mother ; and a brass plate
on the door indicated that he himself was a soli-
citor.

Upwards of three years passed during which I
remained at the school, but regularly spending the
holidays with Mrs. Parks. I frequently corre-
sponded with my aunt and cousin — but did not
Bee them the whole time. Mrs. Wakefield invited
me to visit them at Sheffield ; but Mrs. Parks de-
clared that her attachment for me was too great to
permit her to lose me for even a few days during
the vacation. I was now sixteen ; and I under-
stood that I was only to remain another year at
the seminary : but an incident suddenly occurred
which caused my prompt removal thence, and in-
troduced another important change into my cir-
cumstances.

One afternoon I was sent for into the parlour,
and was informed by the schoolmistress that my
kind guardian — as she denominated Mrs. Parks —
had been seized with a most dangerous illness,
and that I was to go home to her immediately.
Her son's carriage — (for the thriving solicitor kept
his equipage now) — had been sent to fetch me.
On my arrival at the house I saw that all the
blinds were drawn down : the spectacle gave me
a cruel shock — and the tale which it told was
true : Mrs. Parks had ceased to exist. It was a
malady of some choleraic species which had thus
suddenly carried her oif ; and though there was
not the slightest relationship between herself and
me, yet did I weep bitterly for her loss, as I con-
ceived that she had proved herself so excellent a
friend towards me, and that she had with so much
fidelity fulfilled all the pledges made to my grand-
father on his death-bed.

Her son Mr. Parks gave me to understand that
my guardianship would thenceforth devolve upon
my aunt Mrs. Wakefield; and this intelligence
considerably mitigated the grief I felt for the loss
of his mother. I accordingly delayed not a moment
in writing to my aunt and telling her what had
taken place. The return of post brought me a
letter to the efiect that she should be with me on
the same day that I received it.

She came — but unaccompanied by Harry ; for he

was just finishing his education at the Free School
to which the interest of my deceased grandfather
had procured him admission. Mr. Parks received
Mrs. Wakefield with the most perfect civility, and
introduced her to his wife and family. When I
had an opportunity of speaking to my aunt alone,
I mentioned to her the observation which the soli-
citor had made, to the effect that she had now be-
come my guardian. She embraced me, at the
same time giving the tenderest assurances of love
and affection, " whatsoever might be the circum-
stances in which I might find myself placed."

This reminded me that Mrs. Wakefield herself
was very poor; and I said, "Not for the world,
my dear aunt, will I become a burden upon you !
I have received an excellent education "

" It is as yet premature, my dear child," inter-
rupted Mrs. Wakefield, " to discuss plans for the
future. We know not whether Mrs. Parks has
done the fullest act of justice towards you, or
not "

" Oh ! she has behaved most kind !" I exclaimed.
" In my childhood I never could have expected
that she would prove thus to me in my girl-
hood !"

" You do not understand me, Ellen," said my
aunt : " but I will explain myself. You are now
old enough- to comprehend certain things which
you were too young to discuss or to have men-
tioned to you at the time of Mr. Forsyth's death ;
and I can gather from your conversation, as I have
indeed already seen from your letters, that Mrs.
Parks has never been explicit with you on the
subject."

I listened with attention ; and Mrs. Wakefield
continued as follows: —

"You always considered your grandfather a
poor man : but on the contrary he was exceedingly
rich. He died worth upwards of thirty thousand

pounds and, Oh, my dear Ellen ! instead of

doing his duty towards you alas, that I should

be compelled to speak harshly of the dead!— he
left you to the mercy of her who had been his
housekeeper and whom by his will he enriched.
Yes — it was so ! Everything was left to Mrs.

Parks: she was his sole executrix she took

everything — and if she reared you well and ten-
derly, it was only in fulfilment of the wishes and
the injunctions of the deceased."

"Yes — I know it, aunt," I said in a low voice
and with a visible shudder, as the circumstances
of my grandfather's death-bed were vividly con-
jured up in my memory.

" You knew it P How, Ellen ?" asked Mrs.
Wakefield.

A few moments' reflection convinced me that
there could now no longer be any harm in making
those revelations which I had hitherto kept back ;
and I told my aunt everything, as I have already
given the details to the reader. I likewise men-
tioned all that had occurred in respect to the
stranger, — how he had first visited my grandfather
— how on the second occasion he had looked
through the window of the death-chamber — and
how, after we had come up to London, he called on
Mrs. Parks and her son at the lodgings. • My aunt
listened with so strange an expression of counte-
nance that I could scarcely comprehend what it
meant : astonishment, dismay, anguish, consterna-
tion, all appeared to be blended and depicted

ELLBir PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTBESS.

there. She asked me numerous questions : she [ brown eyes. His forehead was high and smooth,
bade me describe the man according to the i and shining with the light of intelligence. lu
minutest details that were in ray recollection— his ' figure ho was slender, upright as a dart, and with

features, his height, his age, the tone of his voice,
everything that I could possibly remember con-
cerning him. Then Mrs. Wakefield fell into a
profound reverie; and for some minutes was she
absorbed in this meditation, which was evidently

a lithe elasticity of form that was perfectly con-
sistent with manly elegance and grace. No wonder
that his loving mother should have been proud of
such a son !

There was, as I have said, a sudden bashfulness

of a painful character. At length, when I hoped 1 on the part of both Henry and myself as we thus
and expected that she would volunteer some expla- ! met after a separation of nearly five years : but ho
nation as to what she might happen to know or as ; was the first to conquer that awkwardness ; and
to what she thought or surmised, she abruptly ; embracing me, the words " Cousin Nelly " again
aaid, " Let us speak no more upon the subject ; issued from his lips. Then he began telling me

now, dear Ellen ! We must wait till after the
funeral of the deceased Mrs. Parks, and see what
she has done for you — if anything — in her will."

Three days afterwards the obsequies took place ;
and then came the reading of the will. Mr.

how tall I had grown, and how surprised he at the
first instant was at the change and improvement
which had taken place in me— though, as he added
with a smile, he ought to have anticipated both. I
did not tell him that precisely the same thoughts

Parks, his wife, three or four of his grown-up sons, ! had been revolving in my own mind in respect to

my aunt, and myself, were present in the drawing-
room, besides a solicitor who had made the will ;
for Parks himself had not, as it appeared, drawn
up the document, though he was no doubt per-
fectly well aware of its contents. It bequeathed
everything to him, my name being only mentioned
in connexion with some few trinkets belonging to
the deceased, and which were to be given me " as
memorials of the regard she had entertained for
me."

The ceremony was over : Mrs. Wakefield and I
were again alone together.

"It is as I feared, my dear child," said my aunt :
"my worst anticipations have been realized. But
it is useless to reflect upon the past — equally use-
less to make any comments upon the conduct of the
dead. You shall now find a home with me ; and
though a humble one, you are nevertheless of a
disposition that can content itself with these
altered circumstances."

Many other kind things did Mrs. Wakefield say
to me ; and having taken leave of the Parks family
fls well as of my schoolmistress in the neighbour-
hood of Chelsea, I accompanied my aunt to Shef-
field.

himself; for there was still a certain timidity and
bashfulness of feeling which I could not so readily
overcome.

Weeks passed by — they grew into months — and
the more I saw of my cousin, the better I liked
him. His affection towards his mother— his bro-
therly kindness towards myself, were never for au
instant checked or ruffled by the slightest change
of humour. He was cheerful without levity, and
gay without thoughtlessness. His disposition was
sanguine and enthusiastic : he lonjed to have an
opportunity of entering upon some career in the
great world, that he might exert all his energies
and prove to his affectionate mother how anxious
he was to get on. But it was not so easy to
aiford him this opening ; for Mrs. Wakefield knew
not precisely in what profession to embark him,
and he himself had no choice. He was in the
habit of deferring to the opinion of his mother ;
and she in this respect had none to give. She had
no relatives to assist her with their counsel ; and
the retired manner in which her circumstances had
compelled her to live, had prevented her from
maintaining an intimacy with the few friends she
possessed at the time of her husband's death. In
a word, she had a son whose education fitted him
for anything, but for whom she could no nothing.

I saw that all this was beginning to prey upon
my aunt's mind ; and one day, when alone with
her, I took an opportunity of alluding to certain
plans which had been for weeks in my thoughts.

" It is time, my dear aunt," I said, " that I
should think of doing something for myself. I
have received a good education — and — and— I have

entertained an idea 1 believe, in short, that I

am fitted for a governess. I could begin as a nur-
sery-governess, you know — with young children—
and then, as I get on——"

" How can 1 suffer you to go out alone in the
world, dear Ellen f" interrupted my aunt, caressing
me affectionately.

" And how can I continue a burden to your

slender resources?" I exclaimed, with tears in

" No, no — I cannot ! My cousin

CHAPTER IV.

THE ADVEKTISEMEBTT.

A PEW months afterwards Henry Wakefield left
the Free School, and came home for good. I was
prepared, as he entered the house, to rush into
his arms, as I had dune at Leeds : but when he
made his appearance before me, I was suddenly
seized with timidity and confusion. I had for-
gotten that it was no longer the boy whom I was
to meet, but that it was a young man of nearly
nineteen. And he himself seemed to be smitten
with a similar feeling of bashfulness as his eyes
settled upon me. How tall and handsome had he
grown ! — and how admirably did his personal ap- ' my eyes,
pearance fulfil all the promises of an earlier period ! Harry——"
There was still a certain softness in his masculine : " Ah 1" said my aunt, with a deep sigh; "if ho
beauty : the classic features had lost none of their , were only provided for — if he could obtain some
delicate outlines : the dark hair curled naturally situation But you see, Ellen, there is no open-
about the well-shaped head, as when in his boy- ing, unless it be as a junior clerk in some establish-
hood I had admired it ; and there was a world of ment — and then the salary is bo Biaall aod the work
inteiligeneo and thought in the handsome dark I is so laborious ——"

BIIEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

" Dear aunt," I said, " my own mind is made
rap ! Let me endeavour to earn my livelihood. I
tntist do so sooner or later — and why not commence
now ? Oh, I should be so happy if eating the
bread of my own industry ; and then you would
have leisure to look out for something suitable for

Harry At all events you would not have me to

maintain in idleness."

A great deal more conversation toot place, which
I need not however describe : suflSce it to say that
I at length succeeded in wringing a coQsent,
though a reluctant one,, from Mrs. Wakefield, that
I should carry my design into execution. I did
not however mention it to Henry ; and I found
that my aunt herself kept silent upon the point.
There seemed to be a sort of tacit understanding
between us that we would not broach until the
last minute a topic which we knew would sadden
him.

I wrote up to Mr. Parks in London, explaining
to him my wishes and intentions, and begging that
he would interest himself amongst his numerous
friends and connexions to procure me some such
situation as I desired. He wrote a somewhat cold
and distant reply, to the effect that my app4ication
arrived at an unfortunate moment, as he was just
on the point of starting with his wife and some of
his family on a Continental trip ; but that he had
done for me all that lay in his power, by inserting
half a dozen advertisements in the London papers
" at his own expense." When I showed this letter
to my aunt, she sighed, shook her head slightly,
and said, " He who became enriched through the
medium of your grandfather and to the prejudice
of yourself, should have done more for you!"

This observation gave rise to a discourse upon
past topics ; and with some little hesitation, I said,
" You remember, my dear aunt, that when in Lon-
don you led me to understand that after the fune-
ral of Mrs. Parks you might give me some ex-
planations "

" JSTo, my dear child, you are mistaken," inter-
rupted Mrs. Wakefield. " I had already explained
everything that was necessary ; and if I said that
we could wait ere we discussed any plans for the
future, it was only because I wished to see whether
Mrs. Parks would remember you in her will."

" But, my dear aunt, relative to that stranger —
that man of whom I spoke to you "

" Of him I have nothing to say, Ellen."

The discourse was thus cut short — not with
petulance by my aunt, because an angry impa-
tience was incompatible with the sweetness of her
disposition — but with & certain serious firmness
which forbade me from returning to the topic.

In the course of about ten days I received a
letter, written in an elegant female hand, and which
was in answer to the advertisements inserted in the
London papers. It set forth that the writer was
the wife of Colonel Lennie — that they had two
little girls of the respective ages of six and eight,
who were too delicate to be sent to school, and for
whom a genteel governess was required. It fur-
ther appeared that the terms in which my adver-
tisements had been worded — or rather those which
Mr. Parks had inserted on my behalf— precisely
depicted the qualifications which Colonel and Mrs.
Lennie required : the conditions they themselves
offered were liberal ; and the note concluded with
the assurance that I should find a comfortable

home and kind treatment under their roof, I
should observe that if I accepted the situation I
was to set off with the least possible delay, and my
travelling-expenses would be paid.

In one sense I was rejoiced on the receipt of
this letter : I experienced the pride and satisfac-
tion of feeling that I need no longer be a burden
on my aunt's humble means, and that I should
eat the bread of my own industry. On the other
hand, I was grieved at the prospect of separating
from my beloved relatives : but still my resolution
wavered not. Mrs. Wakefield experienced kindred
feelings : she was glad that my laudable views
were to receive a fulfilment under auspices which
seemed so favourable ; while on the other hand
she was afilicted at the idea of parting from one
whom she loved as if it were a very dear daughter.

And now it became necessary to break the intel-
ligence to Henry. For the first few moments he
appeared smitten with a consternation : then the
tears started into his eyes ; and he vowed that he
would rather address himself to the meanest and
humblest avocation than permit me to leave that
house which he looked upon as my home. But
without lingering unnecessarily upon this scene,
suffice it to say that Harry was overruled bv ray
representations, though he was profoundly afflicted
at the idea of this separation. And when the
parting moment arrived, what pangs did my heart
experience ! what tears were shed ! what evidences
of grief were manifested by all three ! My aunt
reproached herself for having permitted the matter
to go so far : Harry, almost on his knees, besought
me to remain : but it was too late to retract, —
though there was an instant when my cousin's
looks and words and tears made all my resolution
dissolve into weakness. I however regained my
fortitude : I tore myself from their arms ; and as
the vehicle drove away from the door, I caught
through the dimness of my own tears the last
tender look which was flung upon me by my
cousin's eloquent eyes.

On arriving in the metropolis, at about five
o'clock in the afternoon of a cold cheerless wintry
day, I at once entered a hackney-coach and pro-
ceeded to the direction indicated in the letter I
had received. The house was situated in Hunter
Street, Brunswick Square: but the moment the
hackney-coach stopped at the front door, a police-
constable who happened to be passing, came and
looked into the vehicle. I was half frightened,
half indignant at what I considered to be an act
of unpardonable rudeness : but the conotable, im-
mediately touching his hat, said in a very respectful
manner, " I beg your pardon. Miss — but have you
come in the hope of taking a situation as governess
at this house ?"

" Certainly," I answered, surprised as well as
rendered uneasy by the question. " Do not Colonel
and Mrs, Lennie live here ?"

" A man calling himself Colonel Lennie did
live here, Miss," responded the constable : " but
he is a villain and an impostor — and he was taken
into custody this morning for his conduct towards

a young lady But I need say no more j and I

am sorry if you have been deceived by him."

Good heavens, what a blow ! I was dismayed
and stupefied : I sank back in the coach like one
annihilated : my despair was too great for tears.
It was dusk: the lamps were lighted; and th«

ELIiEir PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP Alf ACTEBB8.

rays of one streaming into the vehicle, showed the
policeman the effect which his words had produced
upon me. He was exceedingly civil, and humanely
inquired whether he could possibly do anything for
me. The questions which ho thus put aroused me
to a sense of the necessity of immediate action.
My first thought was to return with the least pos-
sible delay to Sheffield : but then the idea struck
me that although I had been so cruelly deceived
in this first endeavour to procure a situation, my
nest might be more successful, and that there
must be plenty of really honest and good families
who required a governess. My resolve was there-
fore taken; and having hastily explained to the
constable how I had come up from Sheffield for
the purpose of taking this situation, I begged him
to direct me to a hotel or some respectable lodg-
ing where I might find temporary quarters.

At the very moment the policeman was reflect-
ing with his finger upon his lip, he had to stand
aside to make way for two ladies who were passing.
One was an elderly dame — the other was young ;
and both were very handsomely dressed. The
light of the lamp streamed full upon the counte-
nance of the younger lady : a cry of joy burst
from my lips— and I called her by name. It was
my former schoolfellow Juliet Norman.

The ladies at once stopped : Juliet came up to the
coach window — she recognised me — and in a few
hasty words I explained the villany of the fraud
to which I had been made a victim, and the con-
sequent embarrassment in which I found myself,
without a friend in London.

"No, not without a friend, my dear Ellen!"
quickly responded Juliet, again pressing my hand
with affectionate warmth. " This is my mother :"
and then she spoke aside for a few instants to
Mrs. Norman.

This lady in her turn addressed me in the
kindest manner, and begged me to make her house
my home. It was situated close by, only half-a-
dozen doors off; and thither the hackney-coach
proceeded — Mrs. Norman herself insisting upon
rewarding the policeman when I mentioned the
civility with which he had treated me.

I soon found myself in a comfortable well-
furnished drawing-room, seated by the side of a
cheerful fire, in the company of Juliet and her
parents. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were about of the
same age— namely, fifty. The lady possessed the
remains of great beauty : indeed she might
still be considered a handsome woman. She how-
ever had no small quantity of rouge upon her
cheeks ; and she was dressed in a youthful style of
mingled finery and coquetry. Mr. Normau was
likewise inclined to corpulence: his grey hair was
very thick, and must have been luxuriant at a more
youthful period ; but he wore neither whiskers nor
beard. He was very fashionably dressed, and dis-
played a profusion of jewellery.

As for my old friend Juliet, — she looked most
superbly handsome ; and she was not only apparelled
with richness, but likewise in a manner calculated
to display her charms to the utmost advantage. She
was now nearly nineteen years of age : she was tall
and admirably formed. Her hair was dark, though
not of such raven blackness as my own ; and her
eyes were of a blue as deep as that of the violet. I
used the proper expression when I termed her
handsome rather than beautiful ; for her features,

though perfectly regular, were somewhat largely-
chiselled. She had a fine aquiline profile— rich full
lips — and a chin which being slightly prominent,
and rounded so as to complete the oval of her coun-
tenance, gave to that countenance a somewhati
voluptuous expression. She possessed a splendid
set of teeth : her neck was long and arching — her
bust had the development of a Hebe, with an ad-
mirable slope of the shoulders : but her waist was
of a wasp-like thinness, and her figure had all the
lightness of a sylph, with its tall graceful stature
and with its sweeping length of limb. I had
known her at school as giddy, gay, and volatile, but
with nothing mischievous in her disposition, and
ever obliging and good-natured : I had not now
been half-an-hour in her society before I discovered
that these characteristics of my friend Juliet had
continued unchanged — while they had acquired the
addition of a certain little coquetry, as if she knew
that she was handsome and courted admiration.

The tale of the villanous trick which I had been
played, was narrated over again to Mr. Norman j
and he expressed his sympathy in the kindest
terms. He bade me make his house my home as
long as ever I thought fit ; and Mrs. Norman lite-
rally overwhelmed me with her caresses and her
attentions. At half-past six o'clock we descended
to the dining-room, where an elegant repast was
served up ; and a variety of wines appeared upon
the board. I could not help observing that Mr.
and Mrs. Norman drank a great deal of champagne,
and that even Juliet herself partook of three or four
glasses without the slightest pressing, and with the
air of one who was merely following an ordinary
custom. A footman and page, both in elegant
liveries, waited at table ; indeed the handsome styk
in which the house was furnished, and the way iri
which the Normans lived, indicated that they were
very well off.

At about ten o'clock Juliet considerately observed
to me that she felt convinced I must be very much
fatigued after travelling all the way from Sheffield ;
and she offered to conduct me to my chamber. I
thankfally accepted the proposal : and she led me
to an exquisitely furnished apartment, with a dress-
ing-room adjoining. There she left me, with an
intimation that I must not think of getting up in
the morning until I felt quite disposed, as they
were very late people.

I slept soundly enough that night, for I was in-
deed very mueh fatigued : but I awoke at my usual
hour in the morning — namely, at about seven
o'clock. The house was perfectly silent : there did
dot even appear to be a servant moving about. I
therefore lay another hour; and then I got up, a
was just finishing my toilet, when Juliet, with no-
thing on but a morning wrapper, and her naked
feet thrust into slippers — her beautiful hair floating
in luxuriant negligence over her half-naked
shoulders— came gliding into the room. She was
surprised to find that I was not only up, but so
nearly dressed : and flinging herself with an air of
languor into a large easy chair, she said, " I should
have lain in bed for at least another hour : but I
came to assure myself that you had everything you
required. Dear me ! you are dressing without a
fire — and it is bitterly cold ! No hoc water either !
My dear Ellen, why did you not ring the bell for
one of the maids i"

I assured Miss Normau that I- did nut find the

KLLEJr PEKCT; OB, THE HEM0IE3 OP AIT ACTKES3,

chamber so cold ao she represented it, and that I i how they are earned. In a word, my dear Ellen,"
had not needed anything at the hands of the ser- ; — and now she grew serious once more— "my
vants. father is an actor, my mother an actress, and I am

" Well, now that you are dressed," she ex- ' a ballet-dancer."
claimed, starting up from her chair and performing ' For a few moments I was so surprised by these
what appeared to mo a sort of pirouette, " come [ announcements as to be rendered perfectly speech-
to my room and let us chat while I drag myself less; and I have no doubt that I surveyed Juliet
through the details of my own toilet. Breakfast , in a manner which naturally led to the inference
will not be ready for the next hour— and besides, that her next observations implied,
we have plenty of things to talk about." " I hope, my dear Ellen," she said, "you do not

I accompanied Miss Iv'orman to her chamber, think the worse of us on this account ? I remem-
which was fitted up in the most elegant and luxu- her that when at school the girls used sometimes to
rious manner. The draperies of the windows and taunt me with the fact that my father was what
of t:.e French bedstead were crimson, with a rich they used to call a phy-actor and my mother a
yellow border : a cheerful fire was blazing in the play-actress : but I likewise recollect that you
grate ; and near it a sofa was placed in the best never displayed any curiosity to know what their
position for any one sitting or reclining upon it to allusions meant. I was then ashamed of my
receive the full benefit of the heat thrown out. parents' profession — I do not know why — unless it
A superb looking-glass surmounted a mantel were because the girls themselves seemed to think
covered with costly ornaments and nick-nacks, it was something to be derided. But now I am
The toilet-table was arranged with an elegance not ashamed of it. And you, my dear Ellen——"
amounting to the most refined fastidiousness ; and " Oh ! never, never," I exclaimed, with the
near it was a full-length mirror or psyche. A half- gushing enthusiasm of my grateful heart, "can I
opened door afforded a glimpse of a bath-room be ashamed of those good friends whom heavea
furnished with every luxurious appliance for such sent me in the moment of my need, and who are
a place. The feet trod upon a carpet of uncommon treating me with such kindness !"
thickness : the atmosphere of the chamber was Thus speaking, I threw my arms about Juliet's
warm and perfumed ; and it altogether seemed neck, and embraced her affectionately,
adapted for a lady of rank and quality. " I know very well," continued Miss 2forman,

" In order that we may converse without re- " that it is the fashion to run down actors, actresses,
straint," said Juliet, seating herself at the toilet- and ballet-dancers, in respect to their private cha-
table, " I will dispense with the attendance of my racters ; and I likewise know, alas ! that there are
maid ; and I can assure you, dear Ellen," she too many on the stage whose conduct has been
added, with one of her merry laughs, " it is a great only too well calculated to give rise to this sweep-
sacrifice I am making on your account." ing reflection upon the whole of us. But in all
"Then wherefore do it ?" I asked. ""We have professions there are the respectable as well as the
'nothing of such very great importance to say to disreputable ; and I flatter myself, dear Ellen, that

each other for the present unless indeed you the name of Iformaa has been honourably borne

mean to advise me how I ought to act in the cir- ' by my parents, and will not be disgraced by their
cumstances in which I am placed ; and that would daughter."

be most kind of you." , Juliet spoke these words with a slight flush

" I think, my dear Ellen," proceeded Juliet, now ' upon the cheeks, and yet with a calm dignity
beginning to comb out the rich masses of her hair, which rendered her language alike impressive and
" that you have some little secret to learn : for it touching. There was nothing giddy nor volatile
strikes me, from two or three things you said last about her at that moment : her speech and her
evening, that you are really unacquainted with the demeanour indicated that if she had her gay and
profession, avocation, employment — or whatever thoughtless intervals, she could likewise have her
you may choose to call it — which my parents and serious and thoughtful ones. I felt at the instant
I pursue." more irresistibly attracted towards her than ever :

" I should conceive Mr. Norman to be a gentle- — I was inspired with the same love, and pride,
man of independent property," I observed : and and confidence on her behalf as if she were a very
then I recollected how, when at school, Juliet had dear sister.

so seldom alluded to her parents, and how when " You see," she continued, " as my parents bo-
she happened to provoke any other girl, some long to the theatrical profession, they could do no-
mysteriously significant taunt was thrown out in thing else with me ; for these avocations are in
reference to her parentage. nine cases out of ten hereditary. They educated

"Independent means indeed !" cried Juliet, with me well, as you know or rather they gave mo

a laugh : but almost immediately becoming serious, the opportunities for a good education, although I
she added, " I do not really think that my father am afraid I did not benefit by them so much as I
is independent of the world to the amount of fifty ought to have done. But if I had turned out the
guineas. But he has an excellent salary — my cleverest girl in existence, what else could they
mother likewise — and I also am very well paid." have done with me except making me an actress
At this moment Juliet, shaking back her glossy or a dancer ? For who would receive into his
tresses over her superb shoulders of milky white- family as a governess the daughter of an actor and
cess, happened to look round towards the place an actress ? And then, too, my parents naturally
where I was seated ; and she perceived that I was j have their pride ; and they could not think of
surveying her with astonishment. i putting me into a shop to make a tradeswoman of

" Ah!" she exclaimed, bursting out into another ; me. Thus you see, my dear Ellen, persons in our
gay light laugh ; " I forgot that I was talking too ' profession are under the influence of circumstances
fast, and speaking of salaries without telling you which rule them imperiously.— However," added

ELLEX PEECT; OK, IIIi; MEMOISS OF A^■ ACTf-EJo.

^^Y\ ' ZC\ ^^^i , 1 1.1:!N§=^^^

Juliet Norman, suddenly recovering all her wonted
gaiety — escaping as it were from her seriousness,
and smiling with the peculiar witchery which be.
longed to her, and which best became that rich
red mouth and those brilliant teeth; — " I have in-
flicted upon you a very long tirade ; and you may
perhaps think it a laboured apology to account
for the one fact, that I am a dancer !"

"And do you like the stage?" I inquired.

"Yes — it suits me well enough," responded
Juliet. " I am only employed for a portion of
the year — and even then my labours are not very
arduous. So you see I have plenty of holidays ;
and this suits my somewhat indolent disposition.
I have been very successful as a dancer; and I
may say without vanity that I have made a little
noise in the theatrical world — I have been well
spoken of and well written of."

" How singular," I exclaimed, " that I never
should have heard your name mentioned in con-
No. 3.— Ellen 1'erct.

nexion with these successes. I should have been
so pleased !"

'•' Ibank you, my dear Ellen— I am sure you
would. It is not however at all surprising that
you should have remained in the dark upon the

subject But tell me, did you never hear of a

certain Mademoiselle Delessert ?"

"To be sure!" I ejaculated. "I remember,
during the very last vacation that I spent with
the deceased Mrs. Parks, I heard her speaking
with some friends relative to that danseuse. Tbey
had all been to see her ; and they were in raptures.
I was to have gone on another occasion : but some-
thing occurred to prevent it. Of course you know
this Mademoiselle Delessert of whom you ara
speaking ?"

" I know her as well as I know my ownself,"
exclaimed Juliet, with the merriest peal of silver
laughter ringing harmoniously from her lips; "for
I am Mademoiselle Delessert."

EMiEW PEECT; oh, the MEMOIES OE as ACTEES9.

" Indeed !" I exclaimed in astonishment. " But
wherefore that assumed dbme ?"

" Because nothing English goes down with the
English*' replied Juliet. "Tou see, my dear
Ellen, the English are constantly boasting of
everything that is English: and yet they patro-
nise everything that is foreign. In the fashion-
able world a gentleman must have his French
valet and a lady her French maid ; the cook must
be French, and the dishes served upon the table
must be French likewise. The hairdresser must
be French ; watches, lace, silks, perfumes, gloves,
fashions, everything must be foreign. The gen-
tleman will patronise a German tailor, and the
lady a French milliner. Music must be foreign —
singers and dancers must be foreign likewise.
And then, don't you see, my dear Ellen," added
Juliet, with another merry laugh, '"'I am not a
dancer, nor an actress, nor anything at all with

an English name 1 am a Jigurante or an

artiste."

" And Mr. and Mrs. Norman ?" I said inquir-
ingly.

" Oh ! they keep their right names," exclaimed
Juliet, " and are not compelled upon the stage to
repudiate their own country and puss as the natives

of another. They perform in English pieces •

though, by the bye, they are only called English
pieces because they are rendered into the English
language; for the fact is that they are in reality
French. In a word, everything must bo foreign,
or have a foreign source, or be in some way con-
nected with something that is foreign, to please
the English fashionable world. But I was going
to observe that my father and mother are really
eminent in their profession, and can always com-
mand good engagements — I mean when anything
is doing in the theatrical world ; because there is
sometimes a lull, or a check, or a stagnation there
as well as in other things. For instance, the week
before last the manager to whose company my
father and mother belonged, suddenly closed his
doors — put up a placard with something about
'unavoidable circumstances' in it— and then took
a walk to Basinghall Street."

"And what did he do there?" I asked, quite
innocently.

"Went into the Bankruptcy Court," replied
Juliet, laughing at my ingenuous simplicity. " But
a»y father and mother will enter upon a new en-
gagement elsewhere next Monday; and I have
likewise an engagement at the same place. Our
united salaries will amount to twenty-five guineas
a week; and thus you see that we may always
reckon upon earning sufScient to live in com-
fort "

" In luxury, I should say," was my interjected
observation.

" Well, in luxury, if you like to call it so," re-
plied Juliet. " We keep a carriage — you have
seen a little how we live — we give gay parties —
and we visit a great deal. And then too wo have
acquaintances amongst the highest aristocracy — I
mean of course the male portion of it : but my
father and mother are always very particular
whom they suffer to approach me ; and if they
were not, it would be just the same — for I should
be particular myself. — But really, my dear Ellen,
I have been speaking so much of my own affairs
that I have quite forgotten your's. You last night

told us exactly how you were situated; and after
you had gone to bed, I sat up with my father and
mother for two hours talking about you."

" It was indeed very kind," I observed ; " and I
am most grateful for all the interest your parents
and yourself are taking in me."

" My father said," continued Juliet, " that it
was a very great pity you should think of going
out into the world as a governess — to occupy a
false position, a little above that of the servants of
the house, and infinitely below that of the master
and mistress — to be incessantly at the mercy of the
lady's caprices, and perhaps exposed to the gentle-
man's impudence — to have to deal with a parcel of
children whose faults you have not sufficient
authority to curb, whose love you cannot win, and
whose ignorance perhaps you cannot overcome — to
be miserably paid and worse treated "

" Good heavens, Juliet !" I exclaimed in con-
sternation ; " what picture is this which you are
drawing ?"

" The picture of the life of a governess," an-
swered Miss Norman, with a mournful seriousness.
" I am not speaking thus, my dear Ellen, to dis-
hearten and render you wretched on the threshold
of a profession which you have thought of adopt-
ing ; but in the most friendly spirit I am preparing
you for all you will have to encounter if you per-
sist in entering it. Nay, more— I will candidly
confess that I am endeavouring to dissuade you
from it. A young lady with your sensitive feel-
ings— with your kind and excellent disposition —
would discover the life of a governess to be intol-
erable !"

" But what am I to do P" I exclaimed, bursting
into tears. " Nothing shall induce me to return
to my aunt, in order to be a burden upon her re-
sources. No !" I added vehemently, at the same
time brushing away those tears ; " I will sooner
endure anything — encounter any wretched-
ness "

" Cheer up, my sweet friend," interrupted
Juliet, doing her best to console me. " Do you
imagine that the profession of a governess is the
only one in the world ?"

" No," I responded : and then, as I in my art-
less inexperience surveyed Juliet almost enviously,
I added, " No — for I see that you yourself are
pursuing one which is far more happy, lucrative,
and agreeable."

" Come," said Miss Norman, " we have talked
sufficiently upon the subject this morning. My
father's house is your home for as long as you like
to render it so ; and we shall therefore find plenty
of leisure to discuss plans for your future advan-
tage."

" But I ought to do something speedily," I said ;
"because I must write to my aunt, who will be
anxious concerning me "

"Write by all means," interrupted Juliet : " tell
her how you have been treated in respect to the

advertisement but tell her likewise that you

have fallen in with friends who are proud and de-
lighted to have you with them. Perhaps, how-
ever, it would be just as well if you were not to
mention what profession we follow."

" No — I will not mention it, my dear Juliet," I
answered : for methought that it was a request
that was thus made rather than a recommendation
which was given.

ELLEBT PERCY; OS, THE MEM0IE8 OF AH ACXr.SSg:

CHAPTER V.

THE inEATEB.

Theee or four days elapsed, during wliich I re-
mained perfectly undecided aa to the course which
I should adopt. Mrs. ]!v'orman was a good-hearted
woman, and well-meaning, though somewhat fri-
volous ; and when I consulted her she said all sorts
of things against the life of * governess. Mr.
Norman likewise spoke to me on the subject : he
reasoned more lucidly and collectedly — and he cer-
tainly advanced a variety of arguments to support
all that had been previously told me by his daugh-
ter. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Norman hinted at a
recommendation that I should seek the stage as a
profession : but Juliet dropped several intimations
to the eflfect that I should do well to turn my
thoughts in that direction.

It was on a Wednesday evening that I had ar-
rived at the Normans' house ; and it was on the
following Monday that these worthy people were
to enter upon their new engagement. They had
to attend the theatre in the middle of the day for
the rehearsal : and they proposed that I should
accompany them. I must confess that I was long-
ing for this invitation; and I therefore gladly
accepted it. I was anxious to see something more
of a theatrical life— to look at it closely — to ascer-
tain all that was required of its votaries— and to
obtain an insight into its details. I had seen how
•well the Normans lived : I found them perfectly
contented with their lot : — and deeply solicitous of
earning my own livelihood, I was already more
than half willing to embrace a profession which
methought would realize my hopes. Youth is san-
guine; and I flattered myself that if I did once
adopt the stage I should succeed. I did not how-
ever like the idea of becoming a dancer so much as
taking the part of a dramatic actress. As for the
opinions which the world entertained of the votaries
of the art, I had never heard more on the subject
than Miss Norman herself had mentioned to me
on the occasion already described ; and the last im-
pression left upon my mind was that persons who
conducted themselves properly and respectably
might surmount the general prejudice, and stand
out in admirable contrast with the disreputable and
bad. I had no idea of contaminating influences ;
and in the innocent confidence of my own pure
heart, I believed it to be perfectly possible for a
young female to enter the theatrical sphere with-
out having her own fair fame undeservedly sul-
lied.

I proceeded with Mr. and Mrs. Norman and
their daughter to the theatre which was to be the
scene of their new engagement ; and on arriving
there I accompanied Juliet to her own dressing-
room. She was to be the principal danseuse in the
ballet ; and therefore she was treated with the ut-
most consideration and had a dressing-room appro-
priated to her sole use. Her maid was already
there, making such arrangements as were suitable
to the young lady's ideas of comfort ; a cheerful
fire was blazing in the grate; and as some time
would elapse before her presence was required by
the ballet-master, we sat down on a sofa to con-
verse. I turned the discourse entirely upon thea-
tricals and a theatrical existence ; and as Juliet now

entered into minuter details than she had previously
done, I grew more and more seriously inclined to
embrace the profession, if in process of time it
should be found that I possessed the suitable quali-
fications.

Mr. and Mrs. Norman went through their parts
in the rehearsal ; and then they joined us in the
dressing-room, where luncheon was served up. This
refreshment being partaken of, Mr. Norman retired,
and Juliet began dressing to practise in the ballet
in which she was to appear in the evening. I had
never been in a theatre before, and therefore was
until now utterly unacquainted with the costumes
that were used upon the stage. I must confess
that I was at first shocked when I beheld Juliet
arrayed in th:\t gauzy drapery, which according to
my ideas was scant even to immodesty : but I could
not help admiring the beauty of her personal ap-
pearance. I went forth with Mrs. Norman on the
stage to witness the rehearsal of the ballet ; and
when I beheld a swarm of young females all appa-
ralled in a similar airy costume, I speedily grew
accustomed to it, and the first impression it created
wore off. The ballet-master made his appearance
with his violin : the dancing commenced — and I
soon found myself yielding to a sensation of in-
creasing delight at the spectacle which I thus con-
templated.

With Juliet's performance I was perfectly
ravished : the mingled elegance and grace which
characterized all her movements, the fairy light-
ness of her evolutions, the harmonious accom-
paniment of the looks with the gestures, attitudes,
and steps themselves— all seemed in my estima-
tion to constitute a real talent — a veritable genius.
I had hitherto looked upon dancing as a mere
recreation, too frivolous to deserve the serious
denomination of an accomplishment : but now it
appeared in my eyes to be not merely an accom-
plishment— for Juliet Norman elevated it into the
very poetry of art itself. There was one portion
in the ballet where she had to dance alone for
several minutes, her companions beiig arrayed in
a semicircle and remaining stationary for the
time. In this part of the performance Juliet
transcended her previous achievements; and even
in that rehearsal so great was her triumph over
the greatest difficulties of the art, that when she
ceased she ' Js greeted by the applause of all pre-
sent. Her lather and mother surveyed her with
looks of radiant admiration; and when she re-
joined us I congratulated her enthusiastically on
her performance.

Every day during that week did I accompany
my friends to the rehearsal in the forenoon ; and
every evening did I visit the theatre with them.
An elderly lady — the widow of an actor of some
eminence in his time — gave me a seat in her box,
Mrs. Norman having especially recommended me
to her care. The more I saw of theatrical life, the
more I liked it : but my inclination still pointed
towards the drama in preference to the ballet.
Though the greater portion of my repugnance to
the gauzy, scant, and semi-transparent vesture of
the ballet-dancers had passed away, yet did I feel
a blush mantling upon my cheeks whenever I
thought to myself that if I happened to decide
upon the ballet I should have to appear in such
an apparel before that densely packed crowd of
spectators. On the other hand, when I beheld

Mrs. >'orman and the other acticBaM in the drama,
spearing in coetumes vhidi no one need blush to
vear, I vas led to ri^et raj deeuioa on that
branch ; and I eren felt that thento I coaU de-
Tote osTself vith a zeal and an enthusiasm vhich
would enable me compktelj to sormoant mj na-
tural diffidence, shjness, and timidity. Aeeord-
inglj, at the end of the week I frankly intimated
to Juliet the desire which I entertained.

I obeerred that her large violet eyes gleamed
vith satis&ction at this annooncement ; and she
■aid to me, " I am rejoiced, Ellen, at the resolTC
you have adopted, because from the very first I
felt convinced that the profession of the stage
would suit yoo. Besides, the friendship I had
formed for you at school revived the moment we
met in London; and I was deeply solicitous that
we should cootinne together. I am confident yoa
wiU experience saceess — you will make money —
you will grow rich — you will perhaps form some
brilHant matrimonial connexion "

*" Juliet I" I exclaimed deprecatingly, as my
riieeks grew crimson ; and then a sudden sadness
smote me, for it seemed as if my cousin Harry were
gazing upon me through the vista of distance with
the mo-omfullest expression in those handsome
brown eyes of his.

" And why not, my dear Ellen f" asked JuUet,
not comprehending wherefore I had thus checked
her, or what dreamy idea was uppermost in my
mind at the time. '' Have not many actresses
eapoused peers of the realm "

"Yes, yes, perhaps !" I hastily interjected :
• but I am now thinkicg of other things "

"Let me tell you, my dear Ellen," proceeded
Miss Xorman, as if giving audible expression to
her own musings, rather than deliberately address-
ing herself to me — '• I am a little mere worldly-
minded than you are ; and as my father and
mother have said, why should not their daughter
lurm an alliance of which they may be proud ? I
know that I am not very bad-looking:'" — here she
gbneed at her psyche, for this discourse took place
IB ber bed-chamber one morning after breakfast :
" I amaa timroughly respectable as a ballet-dancer
can be — I know that not even the malignity of
■eandal has dared breathe upon my name "

"No doubt, my dear Juliet," 1 said, " yoa hare
■any qualifications "

" And you too, Ellen,'*' rej ;ined iliss Jforman :
den, as she attentively surveyed ms, the friendly
good-hearted girl went on to observe with a kind-
ling admiration in her looks, " And yoa too have
every winning and captivating qualification. Tou
are exquisitely beautiful, Ellen. If ever was female
head adorned with such a wealth of glossy raven
hair ! — never did finer nor brighter dark eyes
beam with all the goodness and the intelligence of
the best disposition and the most accomplished
mind! Tou have delicate features, faultlessly
formed : your nose is perfectly siraight : your
mouth is Uke that of a Grecian statue — yet Oh 1
how different vrith the vivid vermilion upon those
Kps and the two rows of pearls shining between
them I"

" Juliet ! mj dear Juliet !" I exclaimed, crimaon
with confusion : " pray do not continue in this
manner!"

" And why not P' said my firiend : and then she
added with an arch smile, " K Miss Percy does

not know that she is beautiful, it is high time she
should be made aware of the fact. If the mirror
be not tell-tale enough, yoa shall at least hear the
truth firom the lips of a firiend who loves and ad-
mires you."

" But I think nothing of personal attractions,
Juliet :•

'•Don't be foolish, Ellen ! Every young woman
likes to know that she U beautiful. You must net
lead me to think that you are a prude — and I
shall think so unless yoa permit me to continue
my description. TVell, then, you have a chin that

is softly and delicately rounded Mine is too

large — and I know it Bjt your's is perfection

itself. And then, my dear Ellen, while yoa are
standing there with averted countenance, yoa
know not how gracefully your head is placed apon
that snowy neck of your's. It is like the flower
upon its stalk! — Ah! yoa may take another atti-
tude: but it h only to develop fresh graces— fresh
beauties 1"

" JuUet, Juliet ! — I will run behind the curtains
— I will leave the room ! Do, my dear friend," I
continued, pleading earnestly, '* desist from this

strain ! I really do not like flattery "

"It is no flattery, Ellen," interrupted Juliet;
"and I am resolved to finish my portraiture.
"Well, then, I have before me a figure more ex-
quisitely beautiful than that of any Grecian statue
would be if similarly arrayed in modem drapery.
: You have the most perfect faU of the shoulders—
I nothing abrupt — t'ae lines flowing as it were with
I soft continujusness into the arms. Your figure is
I sylphid, with a sofBdeney of Hebe-like fulness and
1 roundness of porpwtioBS to redeem it from too
great a slendemess, considering that you are talL
I A few years hence you will be a superb woman :
' now you are a graceful and elegant girl."
I " And now, Juliet," I exclaimed, half-laaghing
I at what I considered to be her foolishness, and half
in confusion at the praises she had been lavishing
I upon me — though I will not attempt to deny that
I I knew full well they were not altogether unde-
served, — ''I shall close your mouth with my
I hand:" — and playfully I executed my threat.

" I have not half dene, my dear Eilea,"' s'aa
said, as in a similarly playful mood she caught
hold of my wrist and removed my hand ; then re-
taining that hand in her own, she went on to ob-
serve, ■■ Here is beautiful modelling I — no sculp-
ture was ever m:re exqubite t"nan these finjers!
Look at these almond-shaped nails ! Ob, Eien,
yoa must knoiv that yoa do possess a very beau-
tiful hajLi. And as for your feet and ancles, I
was adaiiring them the other day; and I thoiig'at
to mvsel^ iJf you would only take to the bal-
let-^"

" Jfo, my dear Juliet," I exclaimed : " bat I
mean to go upon the stage in the drama. And if
yoa do not make haste and dress, so that you may
go and speak on my behalf to the Manager, I shall
beg Mrs. Xorman to escort me. T&ere ! it is mid-
day ! and the carriage will be at the door in a few
minutes."

The elejant French time-piece on Jaliet's mantel
was proclaiming t'ae hour of noon. I hastened oS
to my own chamber to put on my bonnet and
shawl ; and in about half-an-hour, Juliet, who had
been wasting her time iu singing my praises, was
ready to set oS for the theatre. Her parents ae-

EtLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AS ACTEESS.

companied her, as usual ; for even if they had no
rehearsal to attend, they invariably — or at least
one of them — attended their daughter to that
sphere whither they would not have her penetrate
alone. A new hallet was to be rehearsed on this
occasion : the period for practice was prolonged ;
and when it was over, Mrs. Norman herself volun-
teered to introduce me to the manager. I had
taken ofif my bonnet and shawl in Juliet's dress-
ing-room when luncheon was served up there as
usual : I was about to fetch them, when Mrs.
Norman, who had laid aside the same articles of
her own apparel, said that it was not necessary.

With a palpitating heart I followed her to a
room where the lessee was seated at & table on
which were decanters of wine. The walls were
covered with pictures of eminent actors and
actresses, dancers, and managers ; and all the
morning newspapers lay scattered about on the
floor around the great man. For a great man he
assuredly was in that place ; and by numbers was
he looked up to as the very arbiter cf their desti-
nies. He was quite a young man, considering
the position which he held; for he was not above
two-and-thirty ; and though I had seen him before
upon the stage during rehearsals, this was the first
time I had found myself so near him. This closer
view did not make a very favourable impression
upon my mind : methought that I now perceived
a certain self-sufficient and supercilious air which
I had not before noticed about Mr. !Eichards — for
this was the manager's name. He was clad in a
French flowered silk dressing-gown, and wore a
velvet cap with a gold tassel — which costume gave
him perhaps an additional tinge of rakishness. He
was lounging with a sort of fashionable indolence
in a large easy chair, and was giving some instruc-
tions to his stage-manager, who had the proof of
ft new play-bill in his hand.

" You know, sir," the stage-manager was say-
ing at the moment, " we shall want a crowd for
the arrest-scene in the new piece."

" Well, we have already arranged for it, Mr.
Green," responded Mr. Eichards : and, then as he
consulted a slip of paper containing memoranda,
he added, " You have five supernumeraries, and
that's sufficient. Tell them to make the most of
themselves— I mean to spread themselves well out
and look like a mob. Nothing like producing
good effects, Mrs. Norman !" and the lessee turned
towards Juliet's mother with the half courteous,
half familiar air which he was wont to adopt to-
vrards the principal members of his company.

'• I beg your pardon for this intrusion, Mr.
Eichards," said Mrs. Norman : "but I really thought
you were disengaged "

" Always disengaged to you, my dear madam,"
answered the lessee ; " and particularly when you
make your appearance in such pleasing com-
pany."

His glance was flung towards me as he thus
spoke ; and the colour mounted to my cheeks, — not
because I fancied at the time that the implied com-
pliment savoured too much of flippant flattery —
but because my naturally shy disposition rendered
me confused and embarrassed at this special notice
on the part of the great man.

" Now, my dear Mr. Richards," said Mrs. Nor-
man, cajolingly, "pray be so obliging as to give
your attention to Miss Percy for a few minutes.

She is an old school-companion of my daughter's,
and therefore a friend of mine— a young lady in-
deed in whom I am much interested "

" These assurances, my dear madam," inter-
rupted Mr. Richards, " are quite sufficient to in-
duce me to give all my attention to Miss Percy for
a whole half- hour if it be necessary. I presume
that I already understand her object "

" Precisely so," responded Mrs. Norman. " My
young friend has decided upon the stage as her

profession but not the ballet, Mr. Richards —

the drama is her choice. She wished to defer to
your opinion as to her probable success ; and if
you report favourably I shall feel truly delighted
to give her the requisite lessons."

" I feel highly flattered," remarked the lessee,
" that Miss Percy should wish to take my opinion
on the point : but really, my dear Mrs. Norman,

you yourself might have formed a judgment •

Or perhaps you have done so already "

" No," interrupted Juliet's mother. " I was
afraid of being too partial. Ah ! there is Juliet
herself. I shall leave you, my dear, with your
young friend for the present. — Mr. Green," added
Mrs. Norman, turning towards the stage-manager,
" you will permit me to have a word or two with
you, if you please."

Juliet had entered at the moment, accompanied
by another ballet-dancer: Mrs. Norman retired
with Mr. Green the stage-manager. Juliet and
her friend had not put off their dancing apparel ;
and I noticed that the former now carried in her
hand a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which at that
season of the year must have been reared in a hot-
house and purchased at no inconsiderable price ia
Covent Garden Market. Her companion was
named Melissa Harrison ; and as I shall have to
speak of her hereafter, I may as well take this
opportunity of observing that she was a tall
elegantly shaped girl, with a figure of sylphid
airiness— a beautiful countenance — but a very deli-
cate appearance, as if her health were not good,
and as if the exertions of the ballet were too much
for a constitution not naturally strong.

Juliet and Melissa remained in the lessee's room,
while he proceeded to question me. There was a
kind of patronising courtesy in his manner, as if
he meant me to understand that while devoting
this attention to my business on Mrs. Norman's
account, it was a very great favour that he was
showing me, and one which I must appreciate. I
did not think it necessary to enter into any details
relative to my past history : I simply stated that
circumstances compelled me to adopt the means of
earmug my own livelihood, and that I had con-
ceived a fancy for the stage. Mr. Richards took
down a volume of plays from a shelf — selected a
passage — and requested me to read it to him. For
a few moments 1 was overwhelmed with bashful-
ness : but Juliet whispered encouraging words ia
my ears ; and Melissa Harrison, likewise accosting
me, spoke in the kindest tone, though this was
the first time that we had exchanged a syllable to-
gether. I could not help noticing that there was
something softly sympathizing and gently compas-
sionating in Melissa's looks as her large hazel eyes
were fixed upon me : but I thought at the time
that she was generously pitying me on account of
my confusion and embarrassment. Summoning all
my courage to my aid I commenced reading the

2«

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AS ACTBESa.

passage indicated by Mr. Eichards : and as I pro-
ceeded I felt my heart warming with tho subject.
I caught its spirit — the circumstances in which I
was placed appeared to fade away from my con-
sciousness— and I rapidly identified myself with
all the feelings and emotions of the character who
was supposed to be speaking in the drama. It was
not until I had concluded that I suddenly awoke
as it were from the delusion in which I had been
temporarily cradled — or to which, more properly
speaking perhaps, I had wrought myself up ; and
then I was overwhelmed with a still greater con-
fusion than before on receiving the compliments
of Mr. Eichards and the praises of Juliet and
Melissa.

Mrs. Norman re-entered the room at the mo-
ment; and casting a glance around upon all our
countenances, her own became animated with joy,
as she exclaimed, "Ah! I see how it is! My
presage was not incorrect ! My young friend has
proved that she has got the genius — the talent —
although perhaps until this hour it may have lain
dormant."

"Yes, my dear Mrs. Norman," answered Mr.
Eichards, " Miss Percy has acquitted herself better
than any of us could possibly have anticipated. I
never saw so good a first attempt. It is really no
flattery ! My dear madam, the girl has the genius
—cultivate it, I beg of you— she cannot bo in bet-
ter hands than your own !"

The lessee spoke these last words in a lowered
tone to Mrs. Norman as he drew her aside ; and
though I veritably believe they were not intended
for my ears, yet did I catch them; for I was
keenly sensitive to every sign, evidence, or demon-
stration that in any way regarded the result of the
test to which I had been put. I must confess that
I felt as if I had 'achieved a triumph; new ideas
were rapidly germinating in my mind ; the ambi-
tion to shine and achieve a reputation as a great
actress, had already begun to inspire me. And
yet, mingled with all these feelings, was no incon-
siderable remnant of that habitual shyness and ex-
cessive diffidence which could not be shaken off all
in a moment.

" Let me congratulate you, my sweet friend,"
said Mrs. Norman : and she bestowed upon me
a true theatrical embrace, which afforded Mr.
Eichards an opportunity of paying another com-
pliment, to the effect that there was no doubt he
should shortly have the pleasure of seeing us, as
two " stars," enacting the same scene before the
curtain.

Presently I was alone with Juliet in her dress-
ing-room; and when she had said several kind
things to me on the success of the trial to which I
had been put, and likewise prophetic of future
greatness ou my part, — she appeared to sink into a
pensive reverie. Lounging back on the sofa, she
contemplated with a profound attention that bou-
quet of choice flowers to which I have already
alluded. For some minutes I watched her, won-
dering what was passing in her mind, and whether
it were any source of sadness which rendered her
thus pensive. But gradually I observed a smile
■wreathing her rich red lips, and th§n expanding
over her countenance, until that handsome face
became radiant with animation, and a kindred
lustre lighted up the depths of her superb blue
eyes. All of a sudden she met my wondering

gaze; and then a deep blush crimsoned her cheeks,
descended to her neck, and suffused itself even over
her shoulders. She looked as if her heart cherished
some secret which she fancied the expression of her
countenance must have just betrayed to my know-
ledge.

" You understand what is passing in my mind,
dear Ellen ?" she said, glancing at me for an in-
stant, and then bending her blushing looks over the
bouquet which she held in her hand. '•' Perhaps
you will think I am very foolish ? And I may be

so "

" Foolish for what, Julie ?" I asked, with some
degree of surprise.

" Foolish that I should attach the value which I
do to t is bouquet," she continued, still keeping
her eyes upon it — " or at least that I should
attribute a certain significancy to it. Ah ! I see
that you do not understand me !" she exclaimed,
now raising her fine blue eyes towards my coun-
tenance, but still with a blush glowing upon her
cheeks.

" No ; I do not understand you, Julie," I an-
swered— " unless indeed it be that this beautiful
nosegay is a tribute of admiration paid by some

one "

"Did you just now observe that tall slender
young man," asked Miss Norman, slowly and hesi-
tatingly, " who was in the lessee's box during
rehearsal ?"

" I noticed several gentlemen in the boxes "

" Well, the particular one to whom I allude is
Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. He is the son of the
Earl of Carshalton — he is only just come of age

It is he, Ellen, who sent me this beautiful

bouquet. It was placed in my hands a few mi-
nutes before I entered the lessee's room to look
after you."

" And therefore you think," I said, with the ut-
most ingenuousness, " that Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliffe is in love with you ?"

Juliet Norman gave no immediate answer : but
she again bent her blushing countenance over the
bouquet. I now remembered that while standing
on one side of the stage to witness the rehearsal of
the ballet, I had noticed in a box on the opposite
side a young gentleman whose personal appearance
corresponded with the description Miss Norman
had just given. I recollected likewise the conver-
sation that took place between herself and me the
morning after my introduction to her parents*
abode; and I said, "You know, Julie, it has been
your ambition to form a good matrimonial alliance
some day or another. Who can tell but that your
wish may be realized even more speedily than you
had anticipated ? I did remark that young noble-
man "

" And is he not very handsome ?" asked Miss
Norman in an under-tone, as if afraid that the very
walls might have ears to catch the words from her
lips : then, without waiting for my reply, she went
on to say, " I have seen him on each occasion at
rehearsals — and always of an evening likewise. I
don't know how it was, but my heart whispered

something to me yes, something to the effect

that it was on me principally — on Mo only his looks
were fixed ; and now I have received a proof of it :"
— and again her eyes were fixed upon the bouquet.
Her maid at this moment entered to announce
that the carriage was in waiting : the conversation

EtlEir PEKCT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OE AS ACTEES8.

Was thus cut sbort — we rejoined Mr. and Mrs.
Norman — and all returned home together.

I had written to my aunt Mrs. Wakefield to
inform her that the pretended letter of ilrs. Len-
nie wes a cruel deception, but that I had fortu-
nately found an asylum with very kind friends. I
now sat down for the purpose of penning another
letter, to explain my intention of embracing the
stage as a profession : but scarcely had I made a
beginning, wlien it struck me that I had been too
precipitate and that I ought not to resolve upon
anything until I had consulted Mrs. Wakefield
and received her counsel and assent. I know not
therefore how to word the letter which I desired
to write. 1 thought that I would postpone the
task until the morrow, during which interval I
might have leisure for reflection.

In the evening I went to the theatre as usual ;
and when I beheld the applause which greeted the
principal actresses — when I repeated over and over
again to myself the encouraging words which Mr.
Eichards had spoken aside to Mrs. Norman in the
forenoon, and which my ear had caught — a thrill
of unknown pleasure passed through me : I felt as
if I had already achieved greatness and created
renown for myself. I was enraptured with the
profession ; and I found myself inwardly resolving
that nothing should deter me from adopting it. I
beheld Juliet's brilliant triumph in the ballet ; and
when flowers were showered down upon her from
the nearest boxes, I noticed that the finest bouquet
was thrown by the hand of Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliffe. Again my heart thrilled with the ideas that
swept through my brain ; for I fancied to myself
that if the day shoul 1 come when I might be stand-
ing on that same stage, invested with all the glo-
ries of triumph, the hand of one of whom I often
thought might possibly bestow a choice bouquet
upon me, and the handsome brown eyes of my
cousin might shed upon me the light of joyous
congratulations.

On the following morning I received a letter
from my aunt, conveying a piece of intelligence or
no small importance with regard to her son. By
some means, which I need not pause to describe,
lie had attracted the notice of a manufacturer re-
siding at Paisley but who had been staying for a
few days at Sheffield ; and this gentleman had
offered Henry a situation as a clerk in his estab-
lishment, with an immediate salary of sixty pounds
a year, and the promise of a speedy augmentation
if he conducted himself well. He was to enter
without delay upon his duties; and Mrs. Wake-
field intended to remove to Paisley in order that
her son might still have the advantage of the
maternal home. In reference to myself the letter
contained the following paragraphs : — " I admire
your spirit, my dear Ellen, and I love you for that
good feeling towards myself which prompted you
to seek the bread of independence. I rejoice that
you have found kind friends who are so generously
giring you a home until you can launch yourself
in the world. Having the fullest confidence in
your excellent principles, and also in the counsel
which those friends are enabled to give you, I do
not needlessly profiler advice. But remember, my
dear girl, that there is always a home for you be-
neath my roof, wherever my own habitation may
He."
'the letter contained one from my cousin Harry,

who wrote in the hijliest spirits on account of
having at last procured a situation which would
prevent him from continuing a burden on his
mother's slender resources He expressed many
hopes on behalf of my welfare and happiness, and
declared that the only drawback to his own com-
plete contentment was that we were separated.
"You know, my dear Ellen," he said, in this
kind letter, " that I would cheerfully toil for you
as well as for myself: but my mother insists that
it is better for you to follow the present bent of
your own persevering spirit and industrious incli-
nations; and therefore I urged nothing further
upon that point. As for myself, I mean to try to'
get on so well that you shall some day have reason
to be proud of your cousin Harry."

This last sentence gave a particular impulse to
my thoughts; and turned them into a somewhat
new channel.

"And I also will endeavour," I said within my-
self, " to win that position which shall some day
render ^ou, Henry, proud of your cousin Ellen !
What," I went on musing in the enthusiasm of
my feelings, — " what if I were to prepare a great
surprise for those relatives who are interested in
me ? what if I were to keep my secret relative to
the profession in which I am about to embark?
Through the kindness of tliese excellent friends I
have a home assured me : and I may accept it,
because I feel — I know— I have that within my
heart which tells me that the day will come when
I shall be enabled to repay them for all their good-
ness. Oh, what joy, what happiness if at no very
distant time I shall find myself in a position tu
write to my aunt and cousin and tell them that I
have achieved success and that gold is pouring in
upon me !"

My enthusiasm was as exalted in the exact pro-
portion as my inexperience of the world was great :
my hopes were as ardent as my soul itself was in-
genuous. My resolve was taken accordingly. I
wrote to my aunt and cousin congratulating them
upon the good intelligence their own letters had
conveyed to me, and informing them that my
friends the Normans had made up their minds not
to part with me for the present, and that they
kindly opened to my view certain means and pros-
pects which would relieve me from the idea of
being an useless and dependent burden upon their
bounty. In this letter I did not study any hypo-
critical evasion nor culpable dissimulation : my
objects were well-meant — my aim was straight-
forward and honourable ; and I did not for a mo-
ment imagine that I was guilty of any real impro-
priety in veiling my ultimate intentions from the
knowledge of those relatives who were deeply in-
terested in my welfare.

CHAPTEE VL

EDWIJT SI. CLAIS.

I coxTiiftrED to attend regularly the rehearsals
at the theatre; — not that I mjself as yet practised
iu them, but in order to obtain as much in-
sight as possible into the Jotaih of the profession
which I was about to enter. When at home, — as
I may denominate the house of my kind friends,—
Mr. and Mrs. Norman gave me lessons, tn.kiag it

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEES3.

by turns, and experiencing a pleasure in thus in-
structing me.

Thus several weeks went by ; and during this
period I formed many new acquaintances ; for the
Normans saw as much company as their avocations
would permit. There were frequent supper-parties
when the evening engagements at the theatre were
over : they likewise received friends to breakfast
and to luncheon. I was thus introduced to some
of the most eminent artistes of the day : but
beyond the dramatic sphere the Normans had also
numerous friends. As Juliet had given me to un-
derstand, there were amongst these visitors several
male scions of the aristocracy ; and as my expe-
riences became enlarged, I perceived that I was
the object of much attention on the part of the
noblemen and gentlemen frequenting the house as
well as those who had permission to attend the
rehearsals at the theatre. Mrs. Norman how-
ever kept her eye as much upon me as upon her
own daughter ; and I myself maintained a demea-
nour that was becomingly courteous to those flat-
terers ; but I never gave them the slightest en-
couragement. Indeed, in this respect I was much
more shy and reserved than Juliet : for she would
laugh and joke, and even slightly flirt sometimes,
■with some of these fashionable hangers-on : whereas
I never put myself forward — I was glad when I
could shrink timidly into the back-ground, — though
when compelled to join in conversation, I assuredly
did not study to render myself disagreeable.

Meanwhile Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe had pro-
cured an introduction to the Normans; and he
received invitations to their house. He became
marked in bis attentions towards Juliet ; and she
confessed to me that she was considerably ena-
moured of him. He sent handsome presents of
game, venison, turtle, and fish to Mr. Norman —
boxes of eau de Cologne and French gloves to Mrs.
Norman — but to Juliet naught beyond the choicest
bouquets from Covent Garden Market.

One evening, when invited to supper. Lord
Frederick RavensclLffe brought with him a gentle-
man named St. Clair. He was about four-and-
twenty years of age and remarkably handsome.
His hair was of a light brown, with perhaps a
tinge of auburn in it, shining with a rich gloss
and curling naturally. It was parted above a high
and noble forehead, where the grandest intellect
seemed to sit enthroned ; and the fine large blue
eyes were equally faithful in their reflection of
the mind's light. Nothing could be more perfect
than the Grecian profile of Edwin St. Clair. He Jiad
been for two or three years in the Horse Guards,
until an uncle's death — which happened suddenly —
put him in possession of a princely fortune ; and then
he had retired from the army. But he still bore the
title of Captain — by courtesy, I presume ; and he
had not discarded the moustache which he had
worn when in the service. This moustache shaded
without concealing the short upper lip, which had
a somewhat haughty expression : his teeth were
pure, even, and faultless as those of the most
lovely woman. A litlie above the middle height,
his figure was the perfection of masculine sym-
metry ; and when the terms " elegance" and
" grace" are applied to the appearance, the bear-
ing, and the gait of persons of the male sex, they
never could be more justly used than in reference
to Edwin St. Clair.

A few weeks before he was thus introduced to
the Norman family he had entered Parliament ;
and he had already made three or four speeches
which had perfectly electrified the House. His
voice was rich-toned — full of that masculine har-
mony which when low seems to sink dream-like
into the souls of the listeners— but which, when
swelling with the enthusiasm of the feelings and
with the passion of eloquence, has the effect of a
grand and sublime choral music. His countenance
was pale : there were times when it was pensive,
but not saddened : it seemed the mere habit of
thought inseparable from a high order of the in-
tellect. There were other times when that coun-
tenance, though seldom flushing with the warm
blood's glow, was nevertheless animated even to
radiance, — as a strong sunlight pours upon the face
of statuary marble the effulgence which is only just
perceptibly tinged with the hue of the embowering
roses amidst which the light has passed. But there
were times likewise when a strange smile would for
a few instants waver upon St. Clair's lips, and when
the eyes would have a kindred peculiarity of look.
The first time I ever caught this expression of his
countenance, I fancied there was something sinister
in it— something which ought not to appear upon
a face which in its sublime masculine beauty
should only reflect the loftiest and most ennobling
thoughts. I could not understand what that ex-
pression of the countenance meant ; and yet it was
so transient, and was so instantaneously succeeded
by the more natural and agreeable look, that when
it had passed away, it left me in a sort of dreamy
bewilderment as to whether it had ever for that
brief space existed at all. Was it a contempt for
the surrounding gaieties and frivolities of society ?
— was it a cynical distaste for those pleasures which
other people prized ? — or was it the involuntary
expression of proud scorn on the part of a lofty
mind for all the inferior intellects with which it
came in contact ? I knew not : I could form no
conjecture upon the subject ; and yet it was an ex-
pression of countenance which left an uneasy im-
pression on the beholder at the time, and haunted
the memory afterwards.

I have already said that Lord Frederick Havens-
clifTe introduced Captain St. Clair to the house in
Hunter Street, Brunswick Square. He then be-
came a frequent visitor for the next few weeks ;
and I could not blind myself to the fact that while
St. Clair treated every one else with the courteous
attention which his exquisitely polished manners
could so well display, towards me he was reserved
and distant. He never addressed a single syllable
of his conversation to me, unless he was compelled
by the intercourses of the table ; and even then his
look was half averted as if in disdain at the bare
idea of having to notice so humble an individual.
Occasionally — if any warm arguments were in pro-
gress upon a particular subject, and when St. Clair
had listened with the most urbane attention to the
remarks of others — the moment my opinion was
referred to by the friendship or the courtesy of any
one present, the topic appeared all in an instant
to lose its interest for St. Clair : he became cold
and reserved — yet not in respect to the whole com-
pany around him, — but all this coldness and all this
reserve seemed suddenly to be concentrated and
directed towards myself.

Mr. and Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and Melissa Har-

risen (wl)o was r fr?quent guest at the housj)
began to notii-'c EUwin Si. Cii.ir's coijdiii;t in le-
Bjiect to mjeelf ; and they questioned rue on tlio
point. Tliey asked me if I had ever known hioi
before— whether I had given him cause for a de-
xneanour which aoiouuted at times to absolute
rudeness — whether he had made some overture
which I had resented, and for the resenting of
which he was thus treating me with a spiteful
▼indicliveness ? To all these queries I answere I
in the negative — and truly answered. My pride
was however piqued ; and I professed to have been
inobservant of that behaviour which was the sub-
ject of these interrogatories ? Inwardly I felt
annoyed at St. Clair's conduct. Totally uncon.
ccious of having given him offence, I did not like
to be marked out for such undeserved punishment.
Instead of being any longer pleased to be thus
thrown into the background, my soul was gettiujj
chafed at what I could not but regard as a sort of
No. 4.— Elle» Peect.

cold-bloode.^, cowardly, and tacit persecution. I
sa-.v tljiit St. Ciair was popular witli M who belonged
to the sphere of his acquaintance: — without either
assumption, self-sufficiency, or obtrusiveness, ho
became the star of every circle. The brilliancy of
Lis intellect, the exquisite polish of his manners,
the fascination of his discourse, as well as a
certain tact which he had of rendering himself
agreeable to whomsoever he thought it worth whilQ
to please,— all these qualifications were the source
of the power that he wielded. To be absolutely ig-
nored, therefore — to be scorned or to be " cut " by
such a man as this, was something only too well
calculated to gall the feelings of even so patient,
bashful, and retiring a creature as myself.

One day I was attending the rehearsal as usual,
and was standing with Mr. and Mrs. Norman
quito at the back of the stdge, witnessing the
Torpsichoreau displays of Juliet and four other
dancers who were practising a portion of a new

ballet. Mr. and Mrs. Norraan had tlieir eyes i ward as if contemplating his polished boot —
riveted with the most justifiable admiration upon \ though there was really no tinge of foppery in his

their tall, handsome, exquisitely made daughter,
as she was most rapturously poetising, so to speak,
that art in which she excelled. She was, as usual,
putting forth all her efforts, though without any
visible strain, to that effect, — because Lord Frede-
rick RavensclifiFe was in a stage-box, contemplating
her with looks full of lovo and admiration. As t
happened to glance around, I perceived Edwin St.
Clair seated at the side of the stage, and appa-
rently gazing with fixed looks on the dancers. I
had not seen him enter — 1 knew not how long he
had been there ; and the moment my eyes fell
upon him, I averted my countenance, for fear he

composition— he said, "It is not always those with
whom one laughs the loudest and to whom one
assumes the gayest demeanour, that one feels the
most interest in. Doubtless, Miss Percy, you
have thought my conduct towards you exceed-
ingly strange ?"

He looked up suddenly in my face as he thus
spoke; and as the effect of the first surprise had
not worn off, it now received another impulse. It
was astonishment succeeding astonishment.

"Perhaps you have ccemed my behaviour more
than extraordicary," continued Edwin St. Clair :
you may have regarded it as rude, unwarrantable

should notice that I glanced towards him and I —even cruel and cowardly especially. Miss

should think that I was anything more than ut
terly indifferent as to his presence. That portion
of the rehearsing ballet was speedily finished:
there was a pause on the part of the dancers:
Mr. and Mrs. Norman advanced towards their
daughter to say something to her. I remained
alone on the spot where they had left me, when a
well-known voice came stealing as it were upon
my ear in the soft richness of its harmony; and I
gave an involuntary start.

"Your friend Miss Norman is a most accom-
plished danseuse, Miss Percy," said St. Clair, who,
totally unperceived by me, had passed round from
his seat in such a way that he came upon me from
behind.

"Yes, Captain St. Clair," I answered coldly;
"my friend Miss Norman has achieved perfec-
tion."

I was then about to move away, when it in-
stantaneously struck me that if I did so my con-
duct would have the air of a studied resentment
ou account of his own behaviour towards me;
and, my pride coming to my relief — or rather to
my guidance — would not permit me to afford this
indication that he had ever succeeded in annoying
me.

" Yes, Miss Norman is an accomplished artiste,"
continued St. Clair, lounging with an elegant air
of fashionable indolence against a piece of scenery.
"You, Miss Percy, are intended for the stage, I
believe ? When do you think of making your
debut?"

" Nothing is as yet positively settled on that
point, Captain St. Clair," I answered, with what
I may flatter myself was a lady-like coldness and
reserve.

" I am sorry that you are so uncertain in that
respect," he remarked.

I gave no reply: and there was a silence of
nearly a minute.

Percy," ho added in the softest tones of his har-
monious voice, " as I have beea told that you are
an orphan— that you have no other friends in the
world than those whom your own goodness has made
for you — that you are amiable, kind, and of an ex-
cellent dispositioYi."

St. Clair had the art of throwing the most melt-
ing pathos into his language when he chose; and
he was doing it now. There vyas something so irre-
sistibly touching in the manner in which he had
lowered his voice so that its cadence might suit
the words " you are an orphan," that my suddenly
excited emotions swelled up into my very throat
and tears gushed from my eyes.

"A thousand pardons. Miss Percy," said St.
Clair, with earnestness in his tono and his look,— ^
" a thousand pardons," he repeated, " that I should
have made you weep ! I would not have done it
for worlds ! Eor heaven's sake dry these tears !
Those who have already seen with what marked
and studied coldness I h ive treated you, will think
that I am now bringing my* cowardly conduct to a
crisis, and that I am heaping the last crowning'in-
Bult upon you."

I did wipe away my tears ; and I made a move-
ment to leave the spot where this singular discourse
was taking plaee quite at the back of the stage and
in the shade of some scenery. But Captain St
Clair, without absolutely retaining me, just touched
my arm gently with his gloved hand for an instant
— and said, "Eemain, Miss Percy. You have
borne all my seeming cold cruelty towards you :
you must now listen to the explanation and the
cause."

I felt as if under some spell-like influence, and I
became riveted to the spot. There was a kind of
fascinating power investing this man : the simplest
assertion of his will, however delicately conveyed,
appeared to be sufficient to ensure obedience on the
part of all who came in contact with him. I longed

'Yes — I am sorry," continued St. Clair— and i to go— and yet I could not. Perhaps he felt his

methought that there was a slight tincture of vexa-
tion in his tone, as if ho had expected that his
previous observation would lead to a question on
my part, and that he was annoyed that it had not : —
" yes, I am sorry, because my own engagements
will compel me to leave London shortly for a few
weeks ; and I had promised myself the pleasure of
being present at your debut."

1 was amazed at this speech : indeed it so took
me by surprise that I had not sufficient control
over myself to prevent the betrayal of that won-
derment in my looks. St. Clair glanced at me for
an instant; and then bending his eyes down-

own power, and at that instant triumphed in it;
for I caught that peculiar sinister expression flitting
over his countenance. The next instant it was
gone; and in the most harmonious tones of his
penetrating voice, he proceeded to address me in
the following manner : —

" You must bear with me. Miss Percy, some-
what— because I am a being different from the rest
of the world. I am to be judged by the rule of
contraries. When I seem gayest, I am really
saddest; and when I appear pensive, my imagina-
tion may in reality bo revelling in the paradise
which its own power conjures up. In the same

ELLEK PEECT J OE, THE MEM0IE3 o*- A* ACTKE33.

way, when my attention may Beem to be most
closely fixed upon a subject, my thoughts are as far
away thence as the Poles are asunder: and when I
appear not to be listening, I am in reality all atten-
tion. Those whom I hate, scorn, or despise, I in-
variably overwhelm with my affabilities : — even to
those towards whom I am supremely indifferent, I
am full of blandishments. But where I conceive
a friendship— where I take a liking— it is there
that the perversities, the contradictions, and the
inconsistencies of my character most display them-
selves : for there it is that I seem coldest when my
heart is warmest— Mere it is that my demeanour is
of ice while my soul inwardly is in a glow — there
it is that I can offer insult or outrage, though all
the while I would go to the ends of the earth to
render a service ! Do you comprehend such a dis-
position as this. Miss Percy ?"

"It is replete with dissimulations," I answered;
" and he who can give such a character of himself,
would be equally capable of inventing a whole
tissue of such inconsistencies for the mere pur-
pose of gaining a reputation for singularity
— eccentricity — I scarcely know what to term
it."

" Your language is severe," replied Edwin St.
Clair : " but by heaven ! there is no studied dis-
simulation with me. You may perhaps say it is a
dissimulation to have the appearance of hating
where one really likes; but if this be a portion of
my character — an evidence of its weakness or its
strength, whichever you please— it assuredly is not
an hypocrisy : for it is natural. Though peculiar
in its nature, it is not assumed. And now, will
you permit me to add one word more ?" continued
St. Clair, bending his looks most earnestly upon
my countenance. "You, Miss Percy, have been
rendered the victim of those peculiarities on my
part : — and would you know the cause ? It is that
the more cold-bloodedly ferocious my conduct may
have appeared towards you, so has my real feeling
boen proportionately the stronger; — it is. Miss
Percy, that I love you !"

The reader may perhaps deem it strange when I
assert that this declaration came quite unexpect-
edly upon me : for although St. Clair's language
had for the last few minutes been flowing in that
direction, yet did it appear so full of sophistry, or
at least mystic inconsistency, as to leave me unable
to conjecture what aim it might reach. Besides, I
was too innocent and inexperienced to anticipate
avowals of love ; and if perhaps any idea at all had
been floating in my mind as to the end towards
which St. Clair was aiming, it was that a proffer cf
his friendship might perhaps be made. Therefore
I was confounded when that declaration was
breathed from his lips ; and then I must candidly
confess there was a glow of pride in my heart at
the thought that the man whose coldness had
chafed me, and who had made me as it were the
victim of his contemptuous reserve in the presence
of others, was all along the slave of a passion with
which I had inspired him. Yet it was not altoge-
ther possible to analyze my thoughts and feelings
at the time, inasmuch as for some minutes they
were bewildered and confused, — so much so that hs
had taken my hand, he retained it in his own, and
I the while unconscious thereof.

"Yes, Miss Percy, it is true," he continued,
with 1 the melodious persuasiveness of that ma-

gically musical voice of his, — "it is true that I lova
you "

I now hastily withdrew my hand: indeed I
snatched it abruptly away the very moment I
was wakened to the sense that it was beinor
pressed in his own.

" Do not think that I mean to insult you,"
proceeded St. Clair, whose countenance for an
instant had expressed a haughty anger, and had
then, almost in the twinkling of an eye, reas-
sumed the tender eloquence of its look. " I am
not addressing you in that language wherein
young men so often speak to young ladies within
these walls— and which, if breathed behind the
scenes, is as false and insincere as if spoken by
those who are playing a part before the curtain.
No, it is the language of truthfulness that I am
speaking ! You have inspired me with a feeling
which never, never have I known before ;— and I
who have been so proud in my very cynicism, have
become your slave ! Will you take my name and
share my fortune ? I vow to heaven that I am
sincere in the proposal* "

I have already said that here was something
almost irresistibly fascinating about Edwin St.
Clair : I knew likewise that he was immensely
rich; and ho was remarkably handsome. Can it
be wondered if I listened without interrupting
him? will the reader marvel if I confess that I
was dazzled by the brilliancy of this offer ? There
was moreover in the entire proceeding a tincture
of romance full well calculated to have its weight
and influence with the mind of an artless inex-
perienced girl. There was the man whose cold-
ness had hitherto chafed me, now offering to make
me his bride ! — there was the "observed of all
observers," the centre of every circle, the promising
young statesman, the brilliant St. Clair,— there
was he ready to sink at my feet ! I felt the colour
coming and going rapidly upon my cheeks : my
heart was palpitating violently— and I could give
no response.

" With sincerity has the proposal been made,"
continued St. Clair : " and with honour shall it be
carried out. But your decision must be given at
once; and if it be in the affirmative, the present
moment is the last time you must be seen in this
part of the theatre. I will deal frankly with you,
Ellen. If you had ever appeared publicly upon the
stage I would not offer to make you my bride : I

could not marry an actress. But as it is No

matter ! It is different ! And now your deci-
sion ?"

My brain was as confused as if an illuminated
mist was surrounding me — a mist which alike daz-
zled and bewildered. But gradually through that
golden fog — through that dense illuminated mist—
the eyes of awoWter appeared to be looking in upon
me. They were not those of St. Clair— they were
not the eyes that sometimes flashed with a sinister
light : but they were the dark brown eyes which
had never shed a beam to startle my soul nor to
leave a disagreeable impression on it. The revul-
sion which took place in my feelings was prompt
and signal : my brain recovered its clearness — my
thoughts grew collected : I was the complete mis-
tress of my actions :— the spell was lifted from off
my mind.

" Captain St. Clair," I said, mildly but firmly,
"I thank you for the honour which you have done

EI.I.E1T PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTRESS.

Die aud for tho favour with which you have regarded
me. But I beg most respectfully to decline your
proposal."

Jji^ever shall I forget the expression which sud-
denly swept over St. Clair's counteuanee. I have
read la old romances how the Enemy of Mankind
Las put on the human shape in all its most beau-
teous aspect— and how the sudden utterance of
some holy name has in a moment called up the
withering look of tho fallen angel. So was it with
St. Clair. A hidden fiend appeared for the instant
to look out of his eyes : the very beauty of his
countenance was for that brief moment fearful to
contemplate. I was startled— I was shocked— I
was terriliod. The conviction seemed to flash in
unto my mind that I had suddenly made a mortal
enemy of one who was mighty to do much either
of good or of evil, but all whose power of mischief
would henceforth be brought to bear upon myself.
Yet quick as lightning that terrible — that ominous
look had swept away from his countenance; and I
was transfixoi with surprise on beholding how
calmly sad, how reproachfully mournful it now ap-
peared. Could that former expression— so tran-
sient, so fleeting,— could it have been naught but
imagination on my part? was it nothing but a
moment's dream ?

" Miss Percy," said Edwin St. Clair, wi h a soft
melancholy intonation, " your decision has been
given— aud perhaps it is irrevocable. I do not
complain : you have a right to study your own
happiness, although it may be to the destruction of
mine. At least you will regard me as a man of
honour ; and henceforth we shall be friends. One

thing I would beseech which is that the seal of

inviolable silence may remain upon your lips in
respect to all that has now taken place between
us."

With the same mild firmness as before, I gave
Captain St. Clair the assurance which he desired ;
and I hastened away to rejoin my friends. All the
persons gathered upon the stage were conversing in
groups; and thus the episode which I have been
relating in respect to myself, had passed without
any very particular notice. At all events its
nature remained unsuspected.

About ten days elapsed after this occurrence ;
and not for a single instant did I regret the de-
cision at which I had arrived. St. Clair called
every day in Hunter Street, — either in the after-
noon when the rehearsals were over, or else in
the evening at supper-time; and his bearing to-
wards myself was that of tho most friendly cour-
tesy. Tho Normans and Melissa Harrison noticed
this change in his demeanour; and in a good-
Luiuoured manner they remarked to me that the
amiability of my own disposition had thawed the
cold reserve which through caprice (as they fancied
it to be) he had originally maintained towards me.
Not another syllable on the one subject did St.
Clair breathe in my cars : nor even by a look did
he appear to intimate that his thoughts still dwelt
thereon.

As the time was now approaching when Mr. and
Mrs. Norman fancied I might make my debut, —
they having purposely delayed it iu order that I
should prove us proficient us possible,— I selected
the part iu which I desired to appear. I no
longer attended tho theatre in the day-time — but
remained at tho house to study that part. One

day Melissa Harrison called, and found mo alone.
She herself had obtained a few days' leave of ab-
sence through indisposition: for, as I have already
said, she was of a sickly constitution. I told her
that I was studying my part ; and I spoke with an
enthusiasm which made her contemplate me with
the deepest attention. Gradually methought an
expression of sadness infused itself into her looks,
— a sadness which had likewise something compas-
sionating in it : and then I recollected that she
had gazed on me in a similar manner when Mr.
Richards, the lessee, spoke so favourably of my
dramatic genius. I had taken a liking to Miss
Harrison ; and we had grown intimate toge-
ther.

"Tell me, Melissa," I said, — "why do you
look at mo thus ? It is not the first time "

"Oh, it is nothing!" she excliimed : and then
with a laugh of forced gaiety, she strove to turn
the discourse into another channel.

" There is something in your mind, Melissa," I
said. " I beseech you to tell mo what it is. Uoea
it concern yourself ? If so— and if it bo anything
to annoy you— you will have my sincerest sym-
pathy. But if it regard me— as I am almost
inclined to fancy that it must, from the way in
which you have gazed upon me "

" Would you have me speak out ?" exclaimed
Miss Harrison suddenly. " Ob, do not force me,
Ellen! — or perhaps I shall destroy some of those
golden dreams iu which jou have been cradling
yourself."

" Good heavens, what mean you ?" I asked,
suddenly frightened by the words as well as by tho
look which accompanied them. " Leave me not in
suspense ! I appeal to your friendship — if there bo
anything that I ought to know, for heaven's sake
tell it to me !"

" My dear Ellen," she continued, " I should have
spoken to you at first upon this very subject, had I
not reflected that I had no right to take upon my-
self that duty which the Normans had failed to
perform. You have been led to look on the bright
side of the theatrical world : and no one has as yet
undertaken to show you the dark side. Conceive
yourself seated iu the boxes, and contemplating tho
stage when it is bathed in the effulgence of the gas-
lights. What is more beautiful than the scenery?
what more superb or more dazzling than the ves-
ture of the performers ? what more lovely than tho
countenances of the fairy-like girls who are flitting
hither and thither upon those boards? But when
viewed close, and when the eyes escape from the
delusion with which glare and distance invest all
these,— how difl'erent are they ! The scenery is a
vile daub — the dresses are the veriest tinsel — care-
worn and haggard looks are concealed by paint and
cosmetics."

" All this I know full well, Melissa," I said.
"But there is no harm in those delusions of glare
and distance which produce the effects without
which tho theatre would lose all its charms."

" Oh, Ellen ! is it possible," exclaimed M lissa,
" that you do not comprehend the moral which my
words would convey ? I tell you that you have
looked upon tho bright side, and not upon the
other ! You know not the miseries, the anxieties,
which help to make up the sum of a theatrical ex-
isteooe. Those who are successful are devoured by
a thousand petty jealousies. Even Mr. and Mrs.

Normaa— pr^of' ^*^y pP'^p'e though they be, au(i
too fond of tbe pleasures of this liCo to moot annoy-
ances half-way, much less to create vexations for
themselves, — even thei/ have their troubles of this
description. It Las not happened so since you
have known them: but perhaps it is the only
period in their lives that they have been thus con-
tented. As for those who are wisuccessfal ~goo^
heavens ! what a life ! When engaged, they feel
that they are only tolerated— and they are made to
drink deep of the bitter cup of humiliations. But
when without engagements— tte/t what misery,
what privation, what distress become their por-
tion ! I have seen it, Ellen aye, and I have

felt it too !" added Melissu, a strong shudder
sweeping through her form at the bare recollec-
tion,

" Good heavens, you have felt it ?" I exclaimed,
tbe tears starting into my eyes. " But you are
successful — you are well paid "

"Yes— success came," she responded, with a
singularly wild bitterness in her look and tone, —
" success came when it was too late in one sense —
almost too late in another "

" How too late, Melissa ?" I asked wonderingly .
" Thai first sense of which you spoke "

"No matter!" she interjected with an almost
startling abruptness. "I was crushed down by
the weight of penury then—B.n orphan -friendless
—on the very point of being houseless— I was

starving But no matter! In that o<7ie>* sense

to which I alluded, I say that success came almost
too late ; because the heart was too sick to enjoy
it— and because the soul had sunk down so wing-
weary upon the earth that though it might be par-
tially lifted up, it would never soar again in those
lofty flights to which in the fervour of youthful
hope and in buoyant imagination it bad once
risen !"

There was a strange bitterness in the first
portion of Melissa's speech, and a deep mourn-
fulness in the latter, which both alike did me
harm to observe; and as I could only partially
fathom the meaning, I gazed upon her in mingled
surprise, curiosity, and compassion.

"No," she continued, "you have comprehended
nothing of the dark side of this existence upon
which you are about to enter. You have not
thought of all the temptations which environ the
young female embarking in this career. Oh, my
dear Ellen, when I saw you in the purity of your
soul and the innocence of your heart, abandoning
yourself to the enthusiasm of hope— when on the
day of your first test in the lessee's room, I beheld
your countenance flushing with joy as your ears

caught the presages of success — 1 pitied you

yes, I pitied you ! — for methought that one so
beautiful, so artless, and so confiding should have
been destined for better things!"

" Good heavens, Melissa !" I exclaimed in
affright — and I felt that I grew deadly pale, —
" what is all this that you are telling me? Do
you mean that Mr. and Mrs. Norman have de-
ceived me— that Juliet also has deceived me "

"No, no— my dear friend! — they have not de-
ceived you ! They have told you nothing that is
untrue— though they have abstained from telling
you all the truth. But blame thorn not! Mr.
and Mrs. Norman will say nothing against the
profession by which they live, and which they can-

not possibly renounce. It is the business of tboir
lives to persuade themselves that they are happy
in their profession : they would not even to one
another, in the intimacy of man and wife, admit
that they sometimes secretly wish their lot had
been cast in a different sphere. As for Juliet, she
has been successful — she has been praised — the
incense of adulation surrounds her ; and every-
thing is as yet of a roseate hue to her contempla-
tion. She dreams of a brilliant alliance "

" And with some reason too," I observed, glad
of the opportunity to catch any argument which
would serve as a refutation of Melissa's gloomy
reasoning : " for is not Lord Frederick liavenscliffe
paying his court to her ?"

" Ellen, it is incredible," exclaimed Melissa,
with a fierce and bitter scorn in her looks, " how
every girl upon the stage with any pretensions
to beauty — and even with none— fancies that she
will marry a nobleman ! Because there have beeu

a few isolated instances of such espousals "

"But do you not think," I interrupted Miss
Harrison, " that Lord Frederick will marry
Juliet ?"

" I hope so !" answered Melissa drily ; " be-
cause Juliet expects it, and she is deeply ena-
moured of him. But for weeks and weeks he has
been hanging about her ; and yet the word is not
spoken — the matrimonial offer is not yet made !
Heaven grant that Juliet's passion has not been
fanned to an extent that may lead her reason
astray : for I am fond of her— she has many noble
traits— and it would grieve mo sadly if she came
to harm."

"Do you think it possible," I asked, almost in-
dignantly, " that Juliet Norman would forget what
is due to herself— what is due to her parents—

her sense of propriety "

" Not willingly— not deliberately, Ellen," re-
sponded Melissa. " But infatuation is dangerous

— there are moments of weakness "

Here Miss Harrison suddenly averted her coun-
tenance as she stopped short; and for a few mo-
ments I felt so pained by her language— so hurt oa
Juliet's account— that I made no attempts to con-
tinue the conversation. I sat perfectly still, with
my eyes bent down: it was almost a feeling of
anger which I experienced against Melissa. All
of a sudden a sound like that of a sob came upon
my car. I started— I bout forward — I looked
round in Melissa's countenance : she was weeping
bitterly. Forgotten in an instant was the little
resentment with which she had inspired me ; and
throwing my arms about her neck, I exclaimed
" Good heavens ! I have appeared unkind towards
you— I looked or spoke angrily— you meant no

liarm Forgive me, dear Melissa ! Or perhaps

there is some other cause — perhaps these tears have

another source "

"Let us say no more upon the subject, Ellen,"
interrupted Miss Harrison. "Perhaps there has
been too much said already. Yet I hope you knoiV
mo too well to think that I could either seek un-
kindly to damp your enthusiasm, on the one hand,
in respect to the career on which you are about to
enter— or on the other hand to disparage the good
principles of cur mutual friend Juliet. In refer-
ence to yourself, I thought it would only be per-
forming a friend's p^rt to warn you of the snares
and perils which beset a young girl when entering

ELLEN PEECT; or, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTRESS.

the theatrical sphere. Aud jou, Ellen, are so

Bweetlj beautiful— so good — so kind-hearted

Oh ! for heaven's sake look well at every step you
take ia this tangled maze wherein you are plung-
ing ! And now not another word on the subject —
at least not for to-day ! And you will not tell the
Normans that I have dealt thus candidly with you ?
They look upon you as a star whom they are in-
troducing into the dramatic heaven, and whose
light will therefore to a certain extent be reflected
on themselves. They would not thank me if they
knew I had breathed a single syllable which might
have the effect of abating your enthusiasm. And
now, my sweet friend, farewell !"

With these words Melissa Harrison grasped my
band and hurried from the room. Her discourse
had left a painful impression on my mind : indeed
the entire scene was such that I could not possibly
put it away from my thoughts, nor avoid dwelling
on it with a certain mingling of positive uneasi-
ness aud vague apprehension.

CHAPTER Vir.

THE INVITATION AND THE EESITLT.

On the day after the preceding conversation, I bad
occasion to make some purchasps ; and I walked
forth alone for the purpose. It was a little be-
fore the hour of noon ; and I had to go in the
direction of the West End to procure the articles
which I required. As I was turning the corner of
a street leading into one of the fashionable Squares,
I had to stop suddenly short on account of a splen-
did equipage that was dashing along from the
opposite direction. It was an open phaeton drawn
by two superb horses, whose harness was literally
covered with silver: the coachman and footman were
clad in gorgeous liveries — light blue coats covered
with silver lace, broad bands and cords to their
hats, red plush breeches, and shoes with buckles.
The body of the phaeton had but one occupant— a
gentleman, who was lounging back with the air of
one who superciliously despised all the foot-passen-
gers by whom his equipage dashed. A glance at
that individual's countenance showed me that it
was Mr. Parks the lawyer.

The recognition was mutual : he ordered the
oquipage to stop : and taking me by the hand,
exclaimed, " Well really, Ellen, this is most ex-
traordinary ! I was on my way to call upon you.
1 only came back from the Continent a few days

ago But why did you not leave your address

at my house, so that when I did come back I
might see you?"

" In the first place, Mr. Parks," I answered, " I
did not think that I had sufficient claims upon
your interest; and in the second place, I have
been staying with friends — I am not in a situa-
tion as a governess, as perhaps you might have

fancied "

" Why should you suppose that you are not an
object of interest to me ?" he cried. " Have I not
known you from your childhood ? But I suppose
it was because I wrote that letter of mine in such
a dreadful hurry, you might have fancied it a euol
one — I mean when you applied to me a few months

ago about your idea of going into the world as a
governess "

" Well, Mr. Parks," I answered, " I certainly
thought there was an absence of friendliness in
your letter : but since you assure me it was merely
the effect of haste, I am sorry I should have put
so uncharitable a construction on it. And now
therefore, permit me to express my thanks for the
advertisements which you inserted "

"No thanks are needful, my dear Ellen," ra-
plied the lawyer. " I am prepared to do anything

for you and perhaps I have neglected you

somewhat. However, now that we have met, you
must permit me to show you some little attention.
I have a great many things to talk to you about.
You will come and dine with me to-day : Mrs.

Parks will be delighted to see you we have

often thought and spoken of you since my poor
mother's death. Ah, she was u saint, Ellen! — and
she is now an angel in heaven !"

Mr. Parks— as I had known him in my girlhood
— used to be a sanctimonious individual, with a
demure look, slow and drawling speech, large
spectacles, a limp white neckcloth, and a suit of
seedy black. Now he had a gay dashing sort of
appearance, as much as such an ill-favoured person
— with his red hair and whiskers, and freckled
face — could have. He was most fashionably ap-
parelled ; his look was anything but sanctimonious ;
the spectacles on the nose were eschewed for gold
eye-glasses hanging over the waistcoat ; and in-
stead of his speech being drawling, it was rapid
and off-hand, until it suddenly sank into lugu-
brious lowness of tone at the point when he
thought fit to go into the dismals on account of
his deceased mother. I certainly never had seen
anything very saint-like in respect to the late Mrs.
Parks; and there was really something blasphem
ously ludicrous in the manner in which he had al-
luded to her as an angel in heaven.

" You will come and dine with us at five, Ellen,"
repeated Mr. Parks. "I will send my carriage for
you pray b^ in readiness."

I should have refused the invitation, were it not
for the assurance which he had given me to the
effect that he had a great many things to tell
me ; and my curiosity was naturally excited as I
thought that these things must be certain to con-
cern me somewhat, and that they would perhaps
elucidate the mystery of that strange man's con-
nexion with my deceased grandfather as well as
with Mrs. Parks and her son. I therefore ac-
cepted the invitation, and promised to be in readi-
ness by the time the carriage should arrive for me.
We then parted, — the brilliant equipage dashing
along in one direction, and I pursuing my way iu
another.

Punctually at a quarter to five o'clock I was
dressed in evening costume ; and Mr. Parks's car-
riage arrived to take me to his house. It was a
close carriage that he had sent, and of a magnifi-
cence to be in perfect keeping wit'a the equipage I
had seen in the morning. On arriving at the law-
I yer's mansion — which was in a fashionable West
End Square— I was conducted up to the drawing-
room, where Mrs. Parks received me. She was a
little moan-looking woman, with a very vixenish
expression of countenance— though she now en-
deavoured to render herself as amiable as possible.
' I found her alone ; and as she invited me to take a

EttEW PEHCTJ OR, THE MBMOIES OP AN ACTEESB.

Beat, she gave me to understand that her husband
would make his appearance in a few minutes. She
then proceeded to chatter away about her children,
who, she informed me, were all absent from home
at the time, at the different schools which they fre-
quented, according to their ages and sexes. I
should observe that the house was large and sump-
taouslj furnished, — every thing denoting the pos-
session of great wealth on the pait of its proprie-
tor. But there was an utter absence of good taste
in all the appointments ; so that its very splendour
had an air of tawdriness— and its rooms, crowded
with furniture and costliest nick-nacks, seemed
more intended for ostentatious display than for do-
mestic comfort.

Presently the door opened somewhat abruptly ;
and Mr. Parks made his appearance, at the same
time ushering in another gentleman. This latter
individual had a military appearance. He was in
reality, as I afterwards learnt, not more than five-
and-thirty years of age— but he looked at least
forty, on account of a certain dissipated appear-
ance and the ravages which debauchery had made
upon him. Thus, beneath the eyes the flesh looked
somewhat blue and swollen : there were hard lines
across his brow, and wrinkles at the corners of the
eyes. He had light sandy hair, and large mous-
tachios, scarcely a shade deeper in hue. Handsome
he had decidedly been; and his profile was still
good. He was tall and well made: his appear-
ance was not only military, but likewise aristocrati-
cally distinguished. His manners were those of a
polished gentleman, when he thought fit to render
them so : but in the course of the evening I fan-
cied that he surveyed me with a boldness which at
times amounted to a mingled insolence and famili-
arity which brought the colour to my cheeks. ^
" My dear Ellen," said Mr. Parks, as he made
his appearance in company with the gentleman
whom I have just described, " I am delighted to
see you. I had intended that we should dine
alone, as I have a great deal to say to you : but I
met Colonel Bellew at the door — he is an intimate
friend of mine— he has the run of the house— so
he was just dropping in to take pot luck with us
—and I could not refuse him.— Colonel Bellew,
allow me the honour of presenting you to Miss
Percy."

The Colonel bowed, and said with a polite smile,
" I should have been very sorry indeed, Parks, if
you had refused me the pleasure of dining at your
table on such an occasion."

It will have been seen from the lawyer's obser-
vations that though he lived in the midst of so
much splendour and aflfected so much state, he
nevertheless had not contrived to discard certain
vulgarities from his discourse ; and I could not
help wondering that the polished and distinguished
Colonel Bellew should entertain such a bosom friend-
ship for the somewhat coarse-minded Mr. Parks.

Dinner was shortly afterwards announced : the
Colonel offered me his arm ; and we descended to
the dining-room. It was not a mere dinner— it
was a banquet of the most sumptuous description,
— a very pleasant sort of " pot-luck" for the Colo-
nel to be enabled to drop in upon whenever he
might think fit. Yet with the wretched false taste
and that inverse system of boasting into which up-
starts and parvenus are sure to fall, Mr. and Mrs.
Parks apologized for the meal, — declaring " it

was a mere family dinner— they had only intended
to treat me as one of themselves— and that they
could not possibly liave foreseen the Colonel meant
to join them that day."

There were wines in profusion : Colonel Bellew
did justice to the champagne ; and it was when
getting heated therewith that he began to regard
me across the table in a way that I did not like.
Methought that on two or three occasions Parks
shook his head deprecatingly at his friend, as much
as to give him to understand that the bold earnest-
ness of his regards was annoying me. I was glad
when the dessert was pliced upon the table, and
Mrs. Parks shortly afterwards rose and conducted
me up to the drawing-room. I should observe
that not the slightest relerence had been made the
whole time to my own personal circumstances : the
name of the Normans was not mentioned. I did
not even know whether Mr and Mrs. Parks were
aware that I was preparing for the stage. Nor
could I even conjecture how Mr. Parks ascertained
my address when he was purposing to call on me
in the morning. Now that I was alone with his
wife in the drawing room, I natm-ally thought
that she would discourse with me on thoso
topics : — but nothing of the sort. She expatiated
on the pleasures of London life — the large circle
of fashionable friend3 which she and her husband
possessed — the number of her servants — the ele-
gance of her parties— and the prices of the costly
ornaments which were everywhere so heaped about
that it was impossible to move through the draw-
ing-room without running the risk of doing some
damage with the sleeves or skirts of one's dress.
Thinking that possibly Mr. or Mrs. Parks might
have communicated with my aunt at Paisley, I
questioned the lady on the subject : but she replied
in the negative, and instantaneously flew off at
a tangent to tell me how much she bad given for
a particular china monster which stood upon a
console, and how old Lady Mullii^atawney, the
nabob's wife, had gone into fits at finding herself
outbidden at the sale of curiosities where the afore-
said china monster was purchased for the express
behoof of Mrs. Parks, who had seen and fallen in
love with it the day before.

It was not till past ten o'clock that the two
gentlemen joined us in the drawing-room; and
then I perceived that both were much the worse
for the wine of which they had partaken. Mr.
Parks leant against the wall to sip his cofiee ; and
there he swayed to and fro in a manner which
seemed every instant to threaten his equilibrium
with discomfiture. The Colonel walked perfectly
steady — but had a very flushed countenance. Dis-
gusted with the scene — wearied of Mrs. Parks's
tirades relative to the prices of her furniture and
uicknacks — and perceiving that there was no
chance of my obtaining on this occasion any in-
formation in respect to the many things that Mr.
Parks had expressed himself desirous to talk about
— I whispered to the lady that I should like to
return home.

" I am very sorry, my dear Miss Percy," she
answered, also in a whisper, "that we cannot send
the carriage with you, as the coachman begged
leave to go out this evening, his father being dead
or something of the sort. But if you do not mind

a hackney-coach unless indeed you will accept

a bed here for the night——"

" Thank you for your kindness," I responded :
" but I must return to my friends, or they would
bo uneasy — and it is perfectly the same to me
whether I ride in a carriage or a hackney-coach."

Mrs. Parks rang the bell — the order was given
to the footman to fetch a hackney-coach, — and I
rose to take my leave. Mr. Parks and Colonel
Bellew insisted on seeing me down to the vehicle;
and I was dreadfully afraid lest the Colonel should
effer to accompany me as far as Hunter Street.
The proposal however, which I was fully deter-
mined to resist, was not made ; and the hackney-
coach rolled away from the front of the lawyer's
dwelling.

I reclined back in the vehicle, thinking -of all
that had taken place,— wondering how the Parkses
could have become so rich, and whether all their
fortune were based upon the money originally
bequeathed by my grandfather to his housekeeper,
— wondering likewise whether he had foreseen
that his mouey would for ever be alienated from
me, or whether he had intended it to become mine
at that old woman's death — and more than half
suspecting that Lis dying instructions could not
Lave been fulfilled to the very letter. 1 was so
absorbed in these reflections that I took no notice
of the course the haekuey-coach was pursuing —
until the idea gradually dawned in unto my mind
that the journey back to Hunter Street was much
longer than that from Hunter Street to the
lawyer's house. I rose from my haU'-rcclining
posture, and looked from the window : the hack-
ney-coach was passing rapidly by some iron rail-
ing, behind which there were trees. The niglit
was excessively dark — a misty rain was fall-
ing— both the windows were closed ; and as I
only observed objects dimly, mothought we were
passing through one of the Squares. I reclined
back again : another ten minutes must have
elapsed — still the equipage was rolling along, and
with increased rapidity. I felt assured that the
driver had made some mistake as to the address
that had been given to him, though it was I
myself who bad mentioned that address at start-
ing. I pulled the check-string : but it drew in all
the way — the coachman was not holding it in his
hand. I put down one of the windows, and called
out to him.

" All right. Miss," he said, " it's a little mistake
on my part — I missed the way — but in five mi-
nutes you will be there."

Perfectly satiafied with the explanation — though
Bomewhat annoyed by the delay — I reclined back
again j and for some few minutes longer gave way
to my reflections. From these I was startled by
the sudden stopping of the hackney-coach. It
was quite dark, and now raining in torrents. The
door was hastily opened — an umbrella, ready ex-
panded, was held over my head by a man-servant
—while a female threw a cloak upon my shoulders,
the hood falling over my head. I had not the
slightest doubt that these were Mr. Norman's
domestics. I hurried up the steps — hastily en-
tered the hall— and then the conviction flashed to
my mind that I was in a strange place. The front
door was closed : — in mingled consternation and
afl'right I glanced at the servants who had in-
troduced me thither: their faces were unknown
to me as the aspect of the hall itself !

" Good heavens !" I said, " there is some mis-

take ! I beg a thousand pardons for the intrusion
and for the trouble I have given ! Pray stop tho

hackney-coach But I recollect! I have not

paid the man his fare !"

" This way, Miss, if you please —it is all right,"
said the female servant, who was a woman of
about forty years of age, and with not a very pro-
possessing countenance ; for though her tone was
respectful, yet there was a lurking cunning in her
eyes which filled me with alarm.

"I tell you that I do not live here — and you
must know it!" I exclaimed, as I turned towards
the front door.

" You cannot leave the house, Miss," said the
man-servant — a tall, pompous-looking, half-inso-
lent fellow, with a leer upon his lips. '' As Kate
says, it's all right. The coach is gone — and the
man's faro is paid."

I sank down upon one of the hall-chairs, gasp-
ing in breathless terror. That I was the victim
of some treachery, 1 now felt convinced. But sud-
denly starting up, I summoned all my courage to
my aid, saying, " Suifor me to depart immediately !
At your peril retain me here!"

" Tho plain fact is, Miss," replied the footman,
" you are a prisoner — and it's of no use to show
any airs, because they won't be attended to. Our
orders are to treat you with respect ; and this we
are prepared to do. There are roams ready for
your reception ; and you had better retire to th?m
at once. To-morrow perhaps you will see some
one who can tell you more about it."

"Whose house is this?" 1 demanded, in ft hoarse
voice — for I was terribly agitated : indeed I could
scarcely prevent myself from shriekiag out in the
wildness of despair.

" That question you must reserve for to-morrow,
if you please, Miss," replied the footman. " Our
orders are to say as little as possible, and to do
your bidding in all things so long as we see that
you don't escape."

Again I sat down, overwhelmed with a sense
of consternation and alarm- Who could possibly
have done this? Whose house was it ? All in a
moment a suspicion flashed to my mind. That
Colonel Bellew who had appeared to drop in acci-
dentally to dine — who had regarded me with such
bold libertine familiarity — and who had all along
seemed to have some particularly intimate under-
standing with Mv. Parks, — then the excuse for
not sending me home in the carriage— and the
substitution of tho hackney-coach, — yes, every-
thing combined to strengthen my suspicion that
the whole proceeding was a treacherous plot in
which Mr. and Mrs. Parks were the vile accom-
plices and Colonel Bellew was the principal ! Bat
I saw that it was useless to remonstrate with
these domestics, and that perhaps if I appeared
to submit patiently, some avenue of escape might
present itself. I accordingly did my best to com-
pose my feelings, and intimated to the female ser-
vant that I would retire to the chamber provided
for me.

It was a magnificent house to which I had been
brought. The hall was spacious, and adorned with
statues. A marble staircase led up to a landing
decorated with more statues and with immense
porcelain vases. To the next landing we ascended;
and there the female servant — who answered to
name of Catherine— opened a door and conducted

LLLsx rzECT ; oil, inn mejioies oi' an actress.

me into an anteroom exquisitely fitted up as a I
boudoir. Nothing could exceed the refinement of
taste which here mingled with the evidences of
wealth. There was a large chamber adjoining;
and the appointments of this room almost tran-
scend description. Splendid alabaster statues
holding lamps in their hands — the costliest hang-
ings to the windows and the most splendid dra-
peries to the bed — a carpet so thick that the
feet sank deep into it— a toilet-table covered with
all necessaries, as well as with an infinite variety
of elegances in the form of perfumes, oils, poma-
tums, scented soaps— in a word, this chamber ap-
peared to have been fitted up for the reception of
some princess who from her cradle was accus-
tomed to be surrounded by everything that wealth
could purchase.

It must not however be supposed that I was in
a mood to be either dazzled or pleased by what-
loever thus met the eye : I was so profoundly the
IJo. 5. — EiLES Peect.

prey to mingled anguish and alarm that I could
scarcely restrain my feelings in the presence of
the domestic; and when she had retired, I flung
myself upon my knees at the foot of the couch,
weeping bitterly.

How I passed that wretched night, I can now
scarcely tell. I did not disapparel myself : I did
not even lie down upon the bed, for fear lest
slumber should overtake me. Sometimes I walked
about in an almost frenzied sta'e : at others I sat
down and sank into the deepest despondency — or
else gave way to my anguish in tears. What mis-
chief was in store for me ? This was the question
that afflicted me far more than even the idea of
what the Normans might think had become of
me; inasmuch as they might tranquillize them-
selves with the belief that I had remained to sleep
at the Parks's house : but, on the other hand, my
harrowing misgivings pointed towards frightful
calamities.

ELIEN PEECT; OK, THE MEilOIES OF AN ACTKESS.

I must; have fallen asleep through sheer ex-
haustion : for on gradually awaking as daylight
was stealing in at the window, I found myself
seated — or rather half reclining upon the sofa,
from the cushion of which I was lifting my aching
bead. My brows throbbed with the most painful
sensation; and there was a strange feverish feeling-
all over me. Still there was some consolation in
the knowledge that the night had passed undis-
turbed—that the morning had come — and that the
presence of the daylight would perhaps offer some
opportunity of escape. Drawing aside the window-
draperies, I looked forth, and beheld a garden with
green houses and conservatories. There were seve-
ral other dwellings near, all with gardens likewise ;
and I could not at first conjecture in what quarter
of the metropolis I thus found myself— until my
looks, wandering about, settled upon a dome
which I recognised to be that of the Colosseum in
the Eegent's Park. It was about three-quarters
of a mila distant : and therefore I was enabled to
form a tolerably accurate idea of the situation of
the house to which I had been brought.

A glance at the mirror upon the toilet-table
shocked me with the pale, careworn, and almost
haggard aspect of my countenance. My head was
still aching fearfully ; and I began to perform my
ablutions. For the purposes of the toilet there
was, as I have already siid, every requisite; and
when I had copiously bathed my throbbing brows,
the pain diminished. I however looked amongst
the articles on the toilet-table for some volatile
salts or pungent essence, which might refresh me
still more. I could find nothing that suited. A
drawer which stood partially open, contained
fragrant cakes of soap ; and therefore methought
that the other drawers might perhaps bo stored
with additional toilet accessories. I opened a
second drawer : it was filled with various nick-
nacks— but contained not the article which I
sought. I opened a third drawer; and this was
empty, save in respect to some few papers which
appeared to have been hastily crushed up in the
hand and thrust in there. I took them forth. I
will confess that I seized upon them greedily : the
idea struck me that they might possibly afford
some clue as to the ownership of the house, and
thus set at rest any uncertainty which I might
still entertain upon the point. Feeling myself to
be the victim of a foul treachery, I had not the
slightest hesitation nor punctilious delicacy in
examining these papers.

They proved however to be mere scraps, or frag,
ments in an incomplete slate. One was a portion
of a bill from a perfumer's and was duly receipted,
but with a name which I could not read : the
head of the bill was missing — and therefore I could
not ascertain who was the purchaser nor who the
tradesman. Another was a bill — or rather the
fragment of one — for hay, corn, and other pro-
vender supplied for horses ; and a third was a por-
tion of an undertaker's bill for a funeral that had
evidently been conducted on a very expensive scale.
But still I could glean no names. One fragment
alone remained ; and this was a portion of a letter
written in a beautiful feminine hand, though with
a certain degree of tremulousness as if the writer
had been labouring under the greatest excitement
at the time. This impression too was all the more
powerfully conveyed by the fact that many of the

words were underlined with three or four dashes,
as if to give the most vigorous emphasis possible
to the terms which expressed the strong feelings
of the writer. Leaving out a few words which
were upon tlio uneven parts of the upper and
lower edges of the fragment, the intelligible and
consecutive portion would run as follows:^

"Therefore do I bid you an eternal farewell!
Yes— it is eternal! !N'ever, never again will you
behold the wretched being around whose heart you
wove your spells ! Never, never a^ain shall you
hear of her whom a stupendous infatuation mide
your victim! Oh, tears — tears for the remainder
of my life ! — naught, naught but tears! Ah, will
they wipe away the stain ? May God have mercy
upon me ! I feel distracted. I am like a maniac
imprisoned and chained in a cell, wanting to do
something, but yet not rightly understanding what
it is that the soul yearns to do. Oh I is it suicide
which is thus sitting like a black shape of vague-
ness, yet awful and terrible, amidst the darkness of
my thoughts? My soul is harrowed: vulture-
claws are tearing at my brain : serpents are pierc-
ing my heart with their stings. The talons of the
former strike deeper and deeper into that brain :
the fiery snakes tighten their coils around that
heart. My tongue is parched, as if ashes were in
my throat. Oh, for water ! No ! —tears, tears,
tears must be my portion for evermore ! But again
I say, will they wipe away this sense of crime ?
Oh, the power of love, that it should have made me
what I am ! Was there ever such a love as mine ?
Thou wast mine idol : I deemed thee an angel until
thou didst reveal thyself as a fiend ! Good
heavens ! that when methought I was listening in
the soft ecstasy of ineffable tenderness, to the
beatific language of passion which you were breath-
ing in mine ear, your words should gradually take
a d fferent meaning— so that I (unconsciously at
first) found myself listening to such an insidious
tale as none but Satan's breath could waft in unto
the brain. And yet it was so !— and I yielded —
God help me ! I yielded ! I who was first the vic-
tim of love, became the victim of crime ! But
thou, 0 man ! what art thou now doing in the
world ? Art thou happy for all this ? No, no !
Even if thou art racked with one millionth portion
of the horrible thoughts, feelings, and sensations
which are preying upon me — tearing my brain,
stinging my heart, poisoning my very life-blood at
its source, — my God ! if thou dost experience as
much only of all these horrors as a drop is to the

illimitable ocean, thou wilt "

Here the contents of the fragment, as appalling
as they were strange, abruptly broke off; and the
paper fell from my hand. I had read those lines
with feelings of the intensest horror; but all of a
sudden the idea smote me that they must be the
ravings of a maniac; and then a sense of immeasur-
able compassion took possession of my heart.
With that beautiful handwriting, bespeaking the
highest refinement of education and of taste, natu-
rally became associated an idea of transcending
beauty on the part of the authoress. But, Ah 1
again did a feeling of horror spring up in my mind,
as I thought to myself that she might have beea
the victim of some treachery ere her intellects were
turned. And was not the author of her laiseriej
the same who had rendered me a captive within
the walls of that dwelling ? The place suddenly

ELLEN PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OB AH ACTEESS

assumed another aspect : it was no longer exquisite
in its appointments nor splendid in its draperies,
its gilding', its sculptures, and its furniture : it
struck cold and awful upon my soul, as if it were
the gloomiest of dungeons, fraught with all the
most terrible traditions of deeds of crime, trea-
chery, and murder. Had I found myself sud-
denly transported into a cell whence a howling
maniac had just been conveyed away — and had my
eyes fallen upon chains attached to the walls,
rotting straw upon the damp pavement-floor, and
massive bars at the windows, the revulsion of my
feelings could not have been more powerful nor
more fearful.

From this dread state was I suddenly aroused
by a knocking at the door of the chamber ; and
the voice of the female-servant inquired whether I
wanted anything P I proceeded to open the door ;
for I bad fast locked it on the preceding evening.
Catharine looked at me, evidently with some de-
gree of surprise, as if she saw by my appearance
that I had not been to bed all night, and as if she
marvelled that my position should have so great
an effect upon my mind. I said nothing, but issued
forth from the chamber : I was determined at once
to ascertain to what extent I was a prisoner in
the house ; for if I were permitted to penetrate into
the garden, I was resolved either to scale the walls,
or else by my cries to bring the neighbours to my
aid. Catherine followed me down the stairs ; and
throwing open the door of a back-parlour, she re-
quested me to walk in. The room was elegantly
furnished; and a table was spread for breakfast.
A glance however showed me that it was only laid
for one person.

" Who is your master ? and when will he be
here ?" I inquired.

" The first question I cannot answer," said the
servant-woman : " to the second I can only reply
that he will be here in the course of the day."

" I need no refreshment. Let me walk out in
the garden,^ I am suffocating for the want of
fresh air."

"You compel me to speak plainly, Miss," re-
joined Catherine. "You cannot go into the gar-
den. Pray be tractable^-or you will compel us to
use means "

" Enough !" I said, literally shivering with des-
peration. " Spare your threats "

" I must add one word," said the woman,—
" which is, that the slightest attempt to raise any
cries from the windows "

" Enough ! enough !" I ejaculated, stamping
my foot vehemently. " I see that you are capable
of anything!"

I flung myself upon a sofa ; and Catherine
quitted the room. There was something so reso-
lute in her countenance while she spoke, that I
was frightened : I felt myself to be completely in
the power of the inmates of that dwelling. Vague
ideas of a terrible coercion bad floated through my
brain ; and I had no more power nor courage for
any active measures than if I were under the in-
fluence of a horrible nightmare dream from which,
with the fantastic fearfulness of such visions, I
vainly strove to free myself. I touched nothing
that was upon the breakfast- table : I fell into a
State of torpor ; — all my energies were completely
nuiiibed, as if my \ ery spirit itself was broken.

Thus several hours passed away ; and I made no

attempt to quit that room. At length I gradually
woke up as it were from the stupor of utter de-
spondency ; and now an idea struck me Fool
that I was, when alone in my chamber, not to
raise the window and shriek out for assistance 1
But it might not even now be too late ? — and in-
spired by this wild hope, I issued from the
breakfast-parlour. A porter was seated in the
hall : he seemed to be dozing in his great chair,
and apparently took no notice of me. I ascended
the stairs : I reached the second floor ; and Cathe-
rine came out of a room adjoining my own. I
entered the latter : she followed me ; and as if
divining my intention, she said, "Eeuiember my
injunctions. Miss ! Your cries would be useless ;
we should find some pretext to account for them ;
and rest assured that you would not improve your
condition."

She then walked away with an air of so much
confidence in her power over me, that all my hopes
vanished, and I again sank into utter despon-
dency. I threw myself upon the sofa, and gave
vent to my tears. As I presently wiped them
away, my looks settled on the paper which had
fallen on the carpet, — that fragment the contents
of which were so awful, so harrowing ! The ideas
which that scrap of paper conjured up in my
mind, were intolerable : for in the morbid state of
my feelings, I could not help identifying myself
with the maniac condition in which I believed
thit the wriier of that letter must have been
plunged. I started up, and thrust it along with
the other papers into the drawer whence I had
taken it. Scarcely had I done this, when my
ear caught the sounds of footsteps in the ante-
room. I turned round suddenly : the chamber
door, which I had left ajar, opened ; and Colonel
Bellew made his appearance.

A scream was about to burst from my lips,
when a quick revulsion of feeling seized upon me.
I was in a moment nerved with a strength of
mind that astonished myself.

" Begone, sir !" I said : " dare not thus to in-
trude upon my presence ! There is law in Eng-
land to punish this outrage of which you have
been guilty !"

It seemed as if the Colonel were astounded at
the manner in which I addressed him; and my
courage rose in proportion^

" Your myrmidons," I continued, " have obeyed
your orders only too effectually, and have kept me
a prisoner here. But i/ou will not dare bar my
way !"

While thus speaking, I hastily put on my
bonnet and shawl ; and still nerved with all the
fortitude which the very desperation ot my cir-
cumstances had conjured up, I moved towards the
threshold on which he stood.

"No, by heaven!" he suddenly exclaimed,
closing the door and placing his back against it ;
"you shall not leave me thus!— you shall hear
me yea, by heaven ! you shall hear me!

I was now overwhelmed with terror again : my
mind underwent a quick transition — my courage
vanished.

" Beautiful girl — adorable Ellen !" continued
the Colonel, " I beseech you to listen to me !
Drive me not to madness ! goad me not to des-
peration I"

A piercing scream pealed from my lips ; and at

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTKES3.

that very instant a loud double knock at the front
door thundered through the house.

"For heaven's sake be silent!" exclaimed the
Colonel; "be silent? Betray me not! and you
shall presently be free !"

" No — this instant !" I exclaimed : " this instant
must I depart ! Stand aside, I command you !"

" Never, never will I thus abandon you !" cried
Bellew : " never will I thus surrender up my con-
quest !"

His countenance suddenly grew inflamed, as
with extended arms he rushed towards me.

Another loud, long, rending scream pealed from
my lips : Bellew's arms encircled me — I struggled
desperately — shriek after shriek did I send ringing
forth. There was the hasty rush of footsteps on
the stairs — the door burst open — and as the
Colonel suddenly quitted his hold upon me, I sank
exhausted and half senseless upon the sofa. Diz-
ziness and bewilderment was in my brain : I was
only vaguely and dimly aware of some brief pass-
ing altercation which ensued. Then the door
slammed violently— I started up : — EdwiQ St. Clair
sank upon bia knees at my feet.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BOX AT THE THEATRE.

Mt joy at this sudden deliverance was so great
and bewildering, that I could not immediately find
terms wherein to express my gratitude. Forgotten
too was the scene of the present incidents: I re-
membered not that it was in the sanctity of the
chamber where my deliverer thus remained.

" Ellen," he cried, " behold me at your feet !
Hear me beseech you to bestow one smile — one
kind look upon him who has had the happiness of
succouring you at a moment "

" My heartfelt gratitude is your's. Captain St.
Clair," I interrupted him : then suddenly recol-
lecting where this appeal on his own behalf was
made, the flush of wounded pride, not altogether
unmingled with indignation, appreared upon my
cheeks ; and I said, " You will have the goodness
—the generosity— at once to retire."

He sprang up to his feet, as if he himself were
only at the instant rendered sensible of the fact
that he was lingering in a place where he ought
not to be ; and my indignation vanishing, I said,
" Await me on the stairs : I will be with you in a
moment."

He bowed ; and the door closed behind him.
I drauk a draught of cold water ; for my throat
was parched with the efiect of all the excitement
which within the last few minutes I had endured ;
and I hastily readjusted my toilet. My heart was
still all in a flutter; and there was still a species of
bewildering sensation in my brain. In a few mo-
ments I left the room, and found St. Clair waiting
for me on the first landing.

" That villain has gone. Miss Percy," were the
words in which he hastened to address me — thus
alluding to Colonel Bellew. " Enter here for a
few minutes, to tranquillize and compose your-
self."

He indicated a door which stood open, and

which revealed a splendidly furnished drawing-
room. I was scarcely the mistress of my own
actions, so much did I indeed feel the necessity of
a few minutes' leisure to regain my self-possession
and composure. I entered the drawing-room, and
sat down. St. Clair took a seat at a little distance:
and he said in the softest tones of his harmonious
voice, and with an expression of the tenderest con-
cern, in his countenance, " How did all this happen,
Miss Percy ?"

I told the tale which is already known to the
reader : but I said nothing relative to the strange
and terrible fragmentary document which had so
much harrowed my feelings in the bed-chamber.
In the first place it bore no immediate reference to
the explanations which I had to give, and which I
was desirous to cut short as much as possible ; and
in the second place I did not choose to suS'er it lo
be thought that I had with any sentiment of
curiosity peered into the mysteries or details of
my prison-house. St. Clair listened with an air
of mingled interest, surprise, and indignation ;
and when I had finished, he exclaimed, " The vil-
lain ! the heartless villain ! I will yet chastise him
most terribly for this outrage."

"Oh, Captain St. Clair," I said, as the idea of a
duel instantaneously flashed to my mind ; " I be-
seech that you will not on my account bring your-
self into any further collision with that bad man.
My gratitude "

"Oh, Ellen!" he exclaimed, "little, little did 1
think that Bellew was capable of such wickedness
as this I Fortunate indeed was it that in paying a
mere visit of friendship, I should have been led to
his house at the very instant when my presence
was so needful ! Conceive my astonishment when
on the front door being opened, my ears caught
those rending shrieks ! — conceive the excitement
with which I burst through the midst of the do-
mestics who strove to detain me!— and then con-
ceive, if you can, the boundless surprise, the rage,
the indignation, with which I made the startling
discovery that it was you, Ellen— yow whose image
has never been absent from my thoughts "

" Captain St. Clair," I said, — and I felt my
cheeks crimsoning as I was suddenly reminded of
the impassioned words in which he had addressed
me while kneeling at my feet in the bed-chamber,—
" you will see the propriety of my immediate de-
parture hence."

" Oh ! forgive me. Miss Percy — forgive me,
Ellen," he exclaimed, " if in the excitement of my
feelings certain words should have escaped my lips

But no language can convey an idea of all I

felt when recognising in you the object of that
villain's outrage ! Yes— you shall depart hence

Yet stay, Ellen ! One word — only one word!

Nay, look not thus! — it is not of myself I am

about to speak it is for your good thut I am

thinking I You know not the world as well as I ;
you know not its wickedness! Deeply, deeply does
it pain me to have to speak thus on so delicate a
subject; but at least, Ellen, you can take counsel
from me as if I were a friend— as if I were a
brother !"

" Ah ! now you speak," I said, " in a way to
which I can listen. Proceed, Captain St. Clair;
and rest assured that whatsoever good advice you
may give me under existing circumstances, will ex-
perience all my gratitude."

"The world, Miss Percj, is scandalous," he con-
tinued; "and though every one who knows you,
cannot fail to comprehend and appreciate the
purity of your mind and character, — yet those who
know you not, may think within themselres, and
whisper to each other, that a young and beautiful
lady — carried off by treachery as you were — could

not have passed so many long, long hours a

whole night in the house of a notorious liber-
tine "

" Good heavens !" I murmured, overwhelmed
with sharae and confusion : " is it possible that the
effects of that unprincipled man's conduct "

" Alas, yes, Miss Percy !" continued St. Clair :
" they will be fatally experienced by you, if you
suffer publicity to be given to this adventure. It
is one which for your own sake must be hushed in
silence. Leave me to the chastisement of !Bel>
lew "

" No, no," I exclaimed : " it is now for me.
Captain St. Clair, to offer my advice! Promise
that you will not provoke that man to a hostile
encounter— he is indeed so utterly unworthy of
your resentment "

" I promise anything — everything, Miss Percy !"
ejaculated St. Clair, " provided that you yourself
will follow my counsel. Not even to the Normans
ought you to explain what has happened— unless
indeed they should by any accident have discovered
that you did not remain during the past night be-
neath the roof of Mr. and Mrs. Parks "

" The accomplices in Colonel Bellew's treachery !"
I exclaimed, with a feeling of the bitterest indig-
nation against the persons thus alluded to.

St. Clair gazed upon me with a look of astonish-
ment; and he exclaimed, "Impossible!"

" Impossible P" I echoed, also in surprise : " how
can I entertain any other opinion ? Have I not
told you all the circumstances "

" True ! But did not you hear what Bellew
himself said during the few instants' altercation
which took place between him and me? His
words were, ' St. Clair, if you feel yourself ag-
grieved in respect to this young lady, you may
have satisfaction. But implicate not others by
your unjust suspicions : the deed was all mine own !'
—Thus you see. Miss Percy," continued St. Clair,
" Mr. Parks and his wife were utterly ignorant,
and therefore innocent "

" But all those little circumstances ?" I inter-
jected, my mind still full of suspicion in reference
to Parks and bis wife, — '•' the presence of Colonel
Bellew — the excuse in respect to the carriage — the
summoning of a hackney-coach "

" Mere coincidences !" interrupted St. Clair ;
" and they would not have surprised you if no-
thing serious had been the result. But tell me —
did BcUcw accompany you down stairs to the
backney-coach !"

" Yes," I answered. " Ah ! now I recollect ! —
be looked at the horses— he said something to the
coachman——"

" The mystery is cleared up !" ejaculated St.
Clair. " A piece of gold dropped into that coach-
man's bands — a few hurriedly whispered words —
and the man had his cue I Perhaps he took you
by a circuitous route, so as to allow Bellew full
time in the interval to speed hither and give the
requisite orders to his servants. Assuredly, Miss
Percy," added St. Clair, with emphasis, " you

have no just grounds to charge your friends wuh
whom you dined "

" Oh, Captain St. Clair !" I exclaimed ; " in-
finitely would I prefer the belief that Mr. and Mrs.
Parks are really innocent — they who have known
me since my infancy ! Yes, it must be so ! and
heaven forgive me if I have hitherto been unjust
enough to fling upon them the weight ot my sus-
picions !"

'•' I know nothing of Mr. and Mrs. Parks," con-
tinued St. Clair: "but still, as a matter of justice,
I should be sorry that innocent people were unde-
servedly charged. You have now displayed the
true generosity of your character in its wonted
and most natural light. Of course, Miss Percy, I
mean that you should inform Mr. and Mrs. Parks
of the villanous deed perpetrated by their friend
Colonel Bellew — so that they may be put upon their
guard against him. But to all the rest of the
world secrecy and silence ! Pardon me for adding
that your fair fame must not stand even the
slightest risk of being tarnished by the breath of
scandal. As for Bellew himself, he will only be
too glad to hush up an exploit which has termi-
nated to his discomflture."

" Again, Captain St. Clair," I said, " do I ex-
press my heartfelt gratitude towards you:" — then
as I gave him my hand, I added, " You have in-
timated that we may be friends : pray let us bo
always so !"

Although I bent down my countenance in con-
fusion as I spoke, yet I gave to the concluding
words a certain emphasis, which was as much as to
imply that be was to consider it impossible he
could ever be more to me than a mere friend. As
he retained my hand for a few seconds in his own,
his countenance — which, as the reader knows, was
most remarkably handsome — assumed an expres-
sion of such ineffable sadness, mingled with so.
much appealing tenderness, that I experienced a
boundless compassion for him who loved me so
well yet loved me so vainly,

" You shall now depart. Miss Percy," be said :
" my carriage is at the door — use it — I will go in
another direction. You ought to drive at once to
the house of Mr. Parks ; and there you can dis-
miss my equipage. His own carriage can take
you home ; and thus the Normans need not sus-
pect that you have been elsewhere unless in-
deed they should have already discovered it — which
I think is however by no means probable ; for
when they found that you did not return home
last night, they would naturally conclude that you
had remained with the friends with whom you were
so intimate, and beneath whose roof you might so
well sojourn, inasmuch as they had known you from
your childhood."

Captain St. Clair handed me down the stairs ;
and 1 was pleased at not encountering any of the
servants of the house, as their presence would
only have excited my indignant blood after the
coercive treatment I had experienced. St. Clair
assisted me into his carriage — ordered me to bo
driven to the house cf Mr. Parks — and raising his
hat, sped away in another direction. During my
ride to the lawyer's abode, I reviewed all the ad-
ventures through which I had passed ; and I cama
to the conclusion that St. Clair was perfectly right
in the counsel he had given me with regard to
maintaiuing silence on the subject. Inexperienced

ELIiEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OV XK ACTI6E88.

as I comparatively was in the wickednesses of tho
world, yet I could not help comprehending that a
construction most prejudicial to myself might be
put upon the incident by ill-natured imaginations
and scandalous tongues.

On arriving at Mr. Parks's house, I dismissed
Captain St. Clair'a carriage: and on ascending to
the drawing-room, found Mr, Parks and his wife
seated there alone together. They appeared to be
surprised on beholding me : but when I extended
my hand towards them, they gave me the most
cordial welcome. Without many preparatory
words I began to explain all the adventures which
I had experienced : but my narrative was fre-
quently interrupted by the vehement ejaculations
which burst from the lips of both.

" Oh, Mr. Parks !" exclaimed the lady, when
I had finished ; " what a villain is this whom
we have been receiving at the house! — what a
serpent have you been cherishing in your breast !"
" I tell you what it is, Mrs. Parks," said the
lawyer j " Ellen shall be avenged for this ! I will
immediately go and issue process against the
scoundrel Bellesv ; and he shall smart for it. It is
a glorious action ! — forcible abduction — the liberty
of the subject violated — detention vi et armis for
an entire night and a good part of a day — menaces
—intimidation— coercion — and it almost amounts
to assault and battery ! By heaven, we will lay
the damages at five thousand pounds."

" I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Parks, for
your zeal in my cause," I said : " but under exist-
ing circumstances it will be better to hush the
matter up completely. That is Captain St. Clair's

advice "

" I don't care about anybody's advice !" ejacu-
lated the lawyer, dashing his clenched fist upon the
table in such a state of excitement that I had never
before seen him display.

" Really, Mr. Parks," said his wife, " all things
considered — and chiefly for Ellen's sake, you

know "

"Ah, I forgot !" said the lawyer, becoming ap-
peased, and therewith thoughtful : " publicity has
its inconveniences. Well, well, perhaps it will be
better to hush the matter up. But understand me
well, Mrs. Parks ! — that scoundrel Bellew shall never
again set his foot within the walls of this house !
I cut him henceforth and for ever ! As for Cap-
tain St. Clair, I long to make his acquaintance,
and to express my gratitude for his admirable con-
duct. Do you know where he lives, Ellen ?"
" No," I responded. " I have heard that he

has a country-seat in Hertfordshire Ah! by

tho bye, I recollect ! Mr. Norman has written a
note or two thanking him for presents of game ;
and he has dii-ected his letters to some club at the
West End."

"Perhaps the Junior United Service P" sug-
gested Mr. Parks, " as Captain St. Clair has been
in the army."

" That is the club !" I rejoined. " I remember
hearing the name mentioned."

" Very well ! Then I shall write to Captain St.
Clair," said the lawyer. " Mrs. Parks," he added,
turning to his spouse, "when do you give that
grand ball of your's ?"

" Next Monday evening," replied the lady.
"Very good!" ejaculated Parks. "We will
send the carriage to fetch you, Ellen, at nine

o'clock; and ou that occasion we will take care it
shall be in readiness to convey you home again.
Mrs. Parks, have the goodness to sit down and
write an invitation to Captain St. Clair. I will
enclose it in a letter of my own."

" Mr. Parks," I said, " I thank you for your in-
vitation ; but I am not accustomed to fashionable
society — I mean," I added with a slight blush,
" not that of ladies "

" Oh, nonsense, Ellen ! We shall be proud to
introduce you. But here is the carriage at the
door ; and it shall take you home. I agree with
you— it will be better to hush up tho i ^'^jurrences
of last night, and therefore you need say nothing
to your friends the Normans. It is fortunate they
did not send to inquire after you."

I took leave of Mr. and Mrs. Parks ; and during
the drive back to Hunter Street, I more than once
reproached myself with the idea of my injustice
in having thrown suspicion upon persons who had
just displayed themselves so eager to espouse my
cause — so anxious to punish the author of the out-
rage, and so zealous to express their gratitude
towards my deliverer. On reaching Hunter Street
— which was at about four o'clock in the afternoon
— I found the Normans awaiting in the drawiug-
room the announcement of dinner; and as there
were three or four guests present, I escaped much
questioning, and was thus spared the necessity of
giving any evasive replies, or of condescending to
falsehood. I found that the Normans fancied I
had been all the time at the Parks's house, and
that they considered it natural enough. When
they went to the theatre, I excused myself from
accompanying them : for being wearied and ex-
hausted, I was anxious to have a good night's
rest.

On the following day, when I again reviewed
all that had passed, I had still some little uneasi-
ness in my mind as to whether Captain St. Clair
would fulftl the half- pledge he had given me and
abstain from provoking Colonel Bellew to a duel.
1 hoped that he would call on some pretext, in
order that I might be convinced that he had ful-
filled my wishes in that respect : but the forenoon
wore away — and he came not. There were no
rehearsals at the theatre that day ; and therefore
the Normans lunched at home. Lord Frederick
RavensclilTe dropped in; and Mr. Norman, in the
course of conversation, inquired if he had recently
seen his friend St. Clair ?

" Not for the last two days," responded his
lordship : and then he again turned to whisper in
the ear of Juliet, who listened to him with a flush
upon the cheeks and a smile upon the lips.

The afternoon passed : dinner was announced :
— still St. Clair came not. The trouble of my
mind was increasing. It was not that I loved
him : let not the reader suppose it for an instant.
Had it been any one else who succoured me under
similar circumstances, I should have felt an equal
dread at the horrors of a duel on my account. I
went to the theatre in the hope that I might see
him there : but as I sat in the box with the
elderly widow- lady, who, as I have before said, so
kindly acted as my chaperone on these occasions,
I for some time vainly looked around in the
anxious expectation of beholding the object of my
thoughts. At length the door of the box in which
I and the elderly lady were seated alone together.

EHEIT PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEEES.

opened ; and Captain St. Clair made his appear-
ance. It was the first time he had ever sought
me in that box or in the society of the elderly lady
who had been an actress in her time : and the idea
flashed to my mind that something had happened.
A second glance, confirming that suspicion, turned
the blood into ice in my veins : St. Clair's left arm
was in a sling !

" Good evening, Miss Percy," he said, ^\ith his
wonted air of easy politeness, as he proffered me
his hand : but at the same time he darted upon
me a look which was as much as to bid me com-
mand any emotion that the spectacle of the sling
might have conjured up. " Will you present me
to your friend that I may offer my apologies for
intruding into her box ?"

I know not how I murmured forth the neces-
sary words of introduction between Captain St.
Clair and my elderly friend : but the latter was
infinitely pleased at having so fashionable a gentle-
man in her box ; and there was consequently no
need for apologies. The worthy lady, however,
suspected no doubt that it was not she herself who
was the object of St. Clair's attraction to that
box; and after a few ordinary civilities had been
interchanged between herself and her new ac-
quaintance, she turned to devote herself with
redoubled attention to the proceedings of the
stage.

Meanwhile I had been sitting in the cold torpid
state of semi-stupefaction at the idea that a duel
had after all taken place on my account, and that
St. Clair had been wounded. Methought, too,
that while he was making a few courteous obser-
vations to my elderly friend — and assuring her in
answer to an inquiry which she put, that he had
merely experienced a contusion on the left
shoulder by a fall from his horse, — methought, I
say, that he was in reality suffering great pain,
which with a stoical fortitude he was striving to
conceal. The story of a fall from a horse I did
not for a single instant believe ; and all the time
I sat in that cold torpor of the senses, my looks
were fixed with a deep, deep compassion upon St.
Clair's countenance. At length the elderly lady
turned towards the stage : St. Clair placed himself
next to me ; and I said in a low deep whisper,
"Tell me — for God's sake tell me, what has taken
place P"

" My dear Miss Percy," he answered, likewise
in a whijper, " do not give yourself any uneasi-
ness. It is nothing 1 shall be well in a few

days :" — but at that same instant over his coun-
tenance there passed an expression which pained
and afilicted me to behold.

"You are suffering at this instant," I said, with
the tears ready to gush out of my eyes; "you are
suffering— and I cannot bear to see it !"

A glow of pleasure succeeded that of pain
upon his countenance — while I felt the blood
mantling in crimson upon my own, as the thought
struck me that I had been betrayed by my feelings
of regret, compassion, and distress, into saying
something that might be interpreted in a warmer
and more tender sense.

"Miss Percy," continued St. Clair, " I knew all
the time — yesterday — that there must be a duel to-
day ; for I and Bollew had placid ourselves in a
position towards each other which rendered a hos-
tile encounter absolutely necessary. You must

not think that because Bellew proved himself to h3
a villain towards yourself, he was either debarred
from seeking satisfaction from me — or that I was
deprived of any right or pretext for demanding
such satisfaction from him. The code of honour "

and here St. Clair gave a peculiar smile for

an instant — " is very different ! I knew therefore
that this duel must take place "

" And yet you pledged yourself," I said, more
than half reproachfully, " that you would ab-
stain "

" My dear Ellen," interrupted St. Clair, " I am
sure you would not have me stand the chance of
being branded as a coward. No — never !" — and
here his countenance again grew flushed with an
animation that rendered him strikingly handsome
— handsome though he at all times was, even in
his most ordinary moments. " But knowing that
the encounter must ensue, there was nevertheless
no need to distress your miud with the assurance
that such was the case. Oh 1 had you not already
suffered enough to render me anxious to save you
every additional pang ? Ah ! and believe me,
Ellen, that even when I stood face to face with
my enemy, it was sweet — Oh ! it was sweet to
know that I was daring death on your account !
And as for this wound, I esteem it light— trivial —
absolute nothingness, in comparison with all that
I would so gladly and cheerfully endure for your
sake !"

" Captain St. Clair," I said, in accents that
were scarcely audible, so strong were the emotions
of distress, sympathy, and affliction that were
agitating within mo; "you know not how I am
grieved to think that this should have occurred !
Upon my gratitude — upon my friendship — you
have everlasting claims : but humble as I am, how
can I hope to be enabled to testify either ? And
now, Captain St. Clair," I hurriedly added, " I
presume that the whole circumstances will become
known "

" Not so !" interrupted St. Clair ; " think you
that I was not all along careful of that reputation
of yours, Ellen, which as— as— your — your friend

your — your — brother for you have told

me I may consider myself so 1 value infi.

nitely more than my own ? — and that is speaking
with an immensity of emphasis; for as a rule, what
can be dearer to a man than his own repute ?
However, I repeat, I took care of everything that
concerned yourself. In a private note I appealed
to Bellew's honour to be silent on the subject ; and
to our seconds we pretexted a different cause of
quarrel — or at least we so altered the main facts
that even if the duel itself should become known,
public attention cannot be turned towards your-
self?"

"I feel all the embarrassment, Captain St,
Clair," I said, " of being compelled to repeat over
and over again the expression of my heartfelt gra-
titude."

"Gratitude, Ellen?" said Edwin St. Clair, in
the most melting tones of his voice of manly har-
mony : " wherelore use that word ? Oh, if you
knew how cheerfully I would have died for you;—
and, Oh ! if you could only conjecture how sin-
cerely I shall wish myself dead if your words and
looks continue to deny me all hope -"

'• Captain St. Clair," I interrupted him, looking
p into his countenance with an expression of the

EtlE» PEBCT; OB, THE MEJI0IK8 OE ATT ACTRESS.

most earnest and ingenuous appeal on my own fea-
tures,— " you possess my gratitude— you possess my
friendship — and all that you have done and suf-
fered on my behalf, necessarily gives you certain
claims upon me. Thus I feel— Oh I feel that be
who has such claims, exercises as it were a power ;
and I entreat that you will wield your power gene-
rously— you will use it magnanimously ! And now,"
I added, anxious to give a turn to the conversation,
" tell me how fared it with Colonel Bellew ?"

" He escaped totally unhurt," responded St.
Clair.

" Ah !" I ejaculated, with a deep sense of vexa-
tion : " it is not a wickedness on my part to express
a wish that he whose crime was the origin of the
duel, should have borne all the punishment — and
that the consequences had smitten him severely,
rather than yourself slightly."

"You know not, Ellen," whispered St. Clair,
with a depth of tenderest pathos in his tone, " how
sweet, how sweet it is to feel myself the object of
your sympathy."

I gave no reply ; but looked towards the stage.
It was difScult — nay, it was impossible to continue
a discourse on such a topic, without finding myself
every moment compelled to say something whereon
St. Clair might put a different interpretation from
that which it ought to bear — something to which
Lis own glowing mind might attribute a deeper
meaning than was intended— something, in short,
which afforded him incessant opportunities to ap-
proach the theme that I was most anxious to
avoid. As for checking him curtly or severely —
as for telling him in plain terms that because he
had rendered me services he must not take ad-
vantage of them, — all this was out of the question.
Such representations on my part would have dis-
played an infusion of ingratitude and worn the
aspect of heartlessness. The reader may therefore
suppose that the position was a very awkward and
embarrassing as well as a painful one for me.

I looked towards the stage ; and for some mi-
nutes silence prevailed in our box. At length the
idea stole in unto my mind that I was now exhibit-
ing a coldness and an indifference towards St. Clair
which he was very far from deserving, and that I
ought not to appear more engrossed with the pro-
ceedings of the drama than with the society of one
who had perilled his life and was wounded in my
cause. I therefore turned towards him with the
intention of making some remark which should
break the awkward silence, when I perceived that
he was standing up close by the door, with his
right hand upon the latch, as if about to leave the
box.

" I was only waiting, Miss Percy," he said, with
an air of almost reproachful sadness— yet without
the slightest tincture of coldness or reserve, — " to
take my leave of you : for I perceive that you are
80 engrossed in the performances that my presence
has become an intrusion."

The colour mounted to my cheeks, and the tears
almost gushed forth from my eyes, as my heart
smote me with the idea that this reproach was
only too well founded.

" Captain St. Clair," I said, scarcely able to
recover my voice, as it were, from the choking
power of my feelings,— "you wrong me— indeed
you wrong me ! Your words would tax me with
ingratitude. God knows I am incapable "

I I stopped short,— my speech now entirely suf-
focated by the emotions that rose up into my
very throat; and at the same time the tears
which hitherto by a strong effort I had kept back,
forced themselves a vent.

" Grood heaven. Miss Percy ! — Ellen — dear
Ellen !" whispered St. Clair, hastily and excitedly,
" I would not for worlds have done this ! I was
wrong ! — I imagined a coldness where none
existed ! Oh, I see, I see that I am not alto-
gether indifferent to you ! — and I rejoice at this
wound which, severe though it be, has at length
given an impulse to your feelings and has pleaded
on my behalf more effectually than the most
eloquent of my own words ever could have
done."

I knew not how to answer: I was plunged
into a perfect maze of bewilderment, perplexity,
and confusion. To attempt matter-of-fact ex-
planations and methodically to define that I
experienced feelings of gratitude and friendship
to the very uttermost, but love not in the least,—
was impossible ! It would have been to give an
immediate justification to the charge of coldness
already brought against me. Besides, had not
the avowal slipped from St. Clair's tongue that
his wound was a serious one ? What did he
mean ? Though it was not mortal, yet still it
might prove fatal ? Oh, I shuddered at the idea !
There was a man surrounded by all the accessories
which render life valuable, incurring the risk of
losing that life on my account ! It was impos-
sible to meet him with harshness or cruelty— im-
possible to cast a damp upon his feelings, — impos-
sible to do aught that should savour in the slightest
degree of ingratitude on my part.

I remained silent : but I know that my looks
must have been full of confusion and sympathy,
bewilderment and compassion, strangely, inde-
scribably blended. And St. Clair went on whis-
pering in my ear. As I have a soul to be saved,
I declare that I comprehended not at the time the
full meaning of the words he was thus addressing
to me, — in such a mist was my soul enveloped.
But that their general sense was in respect to the
feelings which he entertained towards me, I had a
sort of intuitive knowledge, though vague and
dim; and when the performances were over and
he handed me into the Normans' carriage, it ap-
peared to me as if I were only now for the first
time awakening from a hazy dream which for
the last half-hour bad enthralled my senses.

CHAPTER IX.

It was Monday night— the night of the grand
ball to be given by Mr. and Mrs. Parks. I had
decided upon being present, in consequence of a
pressing note received from Mrs. Parks, and ia
consequence likewise of the well-meant representa-
tions of the Normans that I ought to cultivate
the friendship of those wealthy persons who had
known me from my childhood, and who appeared
so ready and anxious to show me every attcutioa.
Juliet— who had nut to attend the theatre on this

ELLEX PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACIEESS,

particular evening— was most kirrlly zealous in
superintending the arrangements of my toilet,

"This white dress becomes you. admirably, my
dear Ellen," she said, as she surveyed me, when
my toilet was complete, with as much admiration
as if she were a fond sister. " Your figure is per-
fect ! — what beautiful flovfing outlines ! Ob, you
will make a sensation to-night at this ball— as you
are shortly destined to do upon the stage ! That
mode of dressing your hair in bands, with braids
at the sides, becomes you marvellously. And this
camelia in your hair — how exquisitely in its white-
ness does it throw out into contrast the raven
darkness of that hair ! You have not looked very
well for the last three or four days— you have been
pale ; but now there is a colour upon your cheeks.
Ah ! it is easy to foretell that you will be the star
of the evening — you will make a hundred con-
quests to-night, Ellen ! — many a heart will go
liome filled with your image — many a breast will
No. 6.— EI1J.EK Pkecy.

sigh to-morrow when thinking of you ! Oh ! ynu
are exquisitely beautiful, with that smile upon
your lips and the pearly teeth peeping between !"

Vainly did I endeavour to stop Julia Iformaa
in the midst of her tirade : it was utterly impos-
sible to arrest her volubly uttered but well- meant
compliments when once she launched out into such
a strain. The Parks's carriage was announced : I
entered it — and was driven to their house

Some fifty or sixty guests were already assem-
bled in the superbly furnished drawing-rooms
when I was announced ; and Mrs. Parks, who sped
forward to receive me, gave me to understand in a
hasty whisper, and with a triumphant look, that
she expected as many more.

The saloons certainly looked magnificent, flooded
as they were with the lustre shed by the immense
crystal chandeliers, — and that lustre taking a
roseate tint from the crimson paper of the walls,
the draperies, and the furniture-fittings, all of a

EliLEN PEECT; OCE, THE MEM0IE8 OV AW ACTEE8S.

corresponding hue. Whatsoever was gaudy and
inconsistent with good taste in the arrangements
of those rooms, as seen by daylight, was now
merged in the one absorbing; air of brilliant mag-
nificence which made its due impression on the
mind. I bad expected to behold amongst the
guests a number of that same upstart or parvenu
class to which the Parkses themselves belonged;
but I was agreeably disappointed. Elegantly
dressed ladies and fashionable gentlemen, belong-
ing to the higher sphere, were present A first
glance however showed me that there was a consi-
derable number of foreigners amongst the male
guests : but I learnt in the course of the evening
that these were attaches and secretaries belonging
to the diflferent Embassies to the British Court.
I was surprised therefore to find that Mr. and
Mrs. Parks possessed so fashionable a range of
acquaintances. I had yet to learn that money is
in itself an immense power,— a talisman— a load-
stone—a magnet of irresistible attraction, — that
many a parvenu is visited for the sake of his
splendid suppers and choice wines, while he
egotistically fancies that the motive is friend-
ship towards himself — or, again, that those whose
necessities and extravagancies place them at the
mercy of the money-lender, are compelled to show
the same deference to his invitations as they
would display to the "royal commands" of the
sovereign.

The rooms speedily filled ; and Mrs. Parks had
whispered in my ear no idle boast when she gave
me to understand that she expected at least a hun-
dred and twenty or thirty guests. She retained
me near her all the earlier part of the evening ;
and I was grateful, because I had no lady com-
panion to be my chaperon. I knew that St. Clair
was to be present : I had seen him every day
since the adventures recorded in the preceding
chapter : he had told me that Mr. Parks called
upon him at bis club, and that Mrs. Parks had
sent him an invitation. He had said nothing more
to me on the one subject which I was so anxious to
avoid : it was only in the presence of the Nor-
mans he had seen me— and his demeanour had
been that of courteous and friendly respect.

I was sitting with Mrs. Parks at the extremity
of the principal saloon, near the door — and she was
just observing that it was time for the dancing
to commence — when the footman announced in
the usual loud tone, " Lady Lilla Essendine."

I was immediately struck by a name— or rather
a combination of names, which seemed to me as
pretty as they were singular— when I was still
more deeply impressed by the appearance of the
lady herself. She was not more than one or two
and twenty, and surpassingly beautiful. She was
a blonde of the most perfect description. Her
light hair can only be depicted as flaxen mingled
with pale amber, but with that rich gloss upon it
which generally belongs only to the auburn hue.
It was of remarkable luxuriance : but never upon
a whiter neck or shoulders did clustering curls or
rolling tresses fall. Her complexion was abso-
lutely dazzling. Hypei criticism might have pro-
nounced her to be too fair, because not even on her
cheeks was there the delicate relief of a roseate
tinge. And yet she was not of a sickly nor insipid
whiteness : the skin had an animation and a polish
which almost supplied the place, so to speak, of the

blushing glow of health. Her eyes were large and
of a beautiful blue, — the lashes being of a rich
brown — which, as well as the brows, were conse*
quently many, many shades darker than the hair.
Her lips were of a vivid vermilion : the teeth
were like pearls. Her profile was slightly aquiline,
but yet not prominently chiselled.

Tbere was no arching of the neck: it was a
straight alabaster column, on which the head sat
with dignity, rather than with a graceful bending
of its snowy pillar. Still there was no deficiency
of elegance in the general efi'ect: it was a
statuesque carriage of the head, neck, and bust,
which had something queenly in it. The bust
itself was superb, — its grand contours being re-
vealed by the low ball-dress of richest Honiton
lace. She was tall j and her entire symmetry was
adjusted to a blending of the proportions of the
Hebe and the Sylph.

Such, at the first glance, was the appearance of
Lady Lilla Essendine. Methought she was proud,
— proud of her rank and beauty, and perhaps her
wealth, — until she spoke to Mrs. Parks, who has-
tened forward to receive her. Then nothing could
exceed the gracious aflfability with which her lady-
ship addressed the lawyer's wite : so that my first
impression being suddenly dispelled, I felt the
next moment that I already liked her. Mrs.
Parks introduced me ; and Lady Lilla Essendine
was as cordial and amiable to myself as she had
shown herself towards her hostess. Mr. Parks
now came forward, and gave his arm to her lady-
ship to conduct her to a seat.

The danc'ug immediately afterwards commenced;

and Mrs. Parks introduced Count Delia Monti, the

! Sardinian Secretary of Legation, to me as a part-

I ner. Just before the quadrille was finished, I

1 perceived Captain St. Clair enter the room. His

I left arm was still in a sling: — indeed, I should

! observe that the impression remained upon my

I mind that he had been much more seriously

I wounded than be was willing to admit. He

I was, as usual, elegantly dressed ; and on his en-

I trance he was immediately surrounded by half-a-

' dozen noblemen and gentlemen who did not happen

to be dancing, and who evidently regarded St. Clair

as the male star of the evening.

Lady Lilla Essendine was dancing opposite to
I me, her partner being a young English Baronet,
I whose name I have forgotten. The moment after
I had seen St. Clair enter, I averted my eyes ; and
my looks happened to fall upon Lady Lilla. I was
I suddenly startled : indeed, for an instant I was so
I struck that if I had cried out it would have been
no wonder ; for the expression of her countenance
actually affrighted me. Pale though she naturally
was, as I have already said, she was now ghastly.
And yet the very next instant methought it was a
mere delusion on my part : for when, after having
shudderingly withdrawn my regards, I looked
towards her again, she was smilingly making
some observation to her partner. I could
scarcely believe the evidence of my own senses;
for I thought to myself that if I had really
beheld upon her countenance that expression
— so painfully, so fearfully indicative of some
awful inward torture, either mental or physical —
wondrous must be the power which she ex-
ercised over her own feelings to be enabled so
speedily to regain her self-possession. But there

EILEIT PEBCT ; OB, THB UEUOIBS 07 AIT ACIBESS.

she was, her features all happiness and animatioa
again: so that I could not help sayin^ to myself
" I was mistaken : it was the light which deceived
me !"

The dance was almost immediately finished ;
and after the usual promenade round the saloon,
Count Delia Monti conducted me to a seat. When,
be left me. Captain St. Clair approached ; and
having shaken me by the hand, he sank into the
chair which was next to the one in which I was
seated.

" I told you that I should be here, Miss Percy,"
eaid Captain St. Clair ; " and although feeling
very far from well, I would not for the world have
missed this opportunity of being in your com-
pany."

I could not help pfazing fixedly upon his coun-
tenance as he thus spoke ; and I perceived that he
was excessively pale— that he had what might be
called a delicate look, as if he had only just left a
sick chamber J and then that arm in the sling — Oh!
as I caught si^ht of it, a pang shot through my heart
ftt the idea that a valuable human life had been
risked and might have been lost on my account. I
have no doubt that my features must have ex-
pressed sympathy, uneasiness, interest, and grati-
tude, all blended at the time ; and then I observed
that the animatioa of pleasure imparted a slight
glow to the previously pale cheeks of St. Clair.

" But what care I for illn^s— or what care I for
the pain resulting from a wound — what care I in-
deed for the perils that I have encountered, since
it was all for your sake ?" — and the tone in which
St. Clair spoke, was full of that deep melodious
pathos which he knew so well how to infuse into
his language.

With the scene at the theatre in my memory —
and recollecting how confused, bewildered, and
overpowered by my feelings I had been on that
occasion — I was resolved to do all I possibly could
to prevent St. Clair from addressing me in a similar
strain on the present occasion. I felt that I had
sufficiently sacrificed my own feelings on that other
occasion to avoid the imputation of ingratitude —
and that I could no longer, even to persevere in
avoiding that imputation, permit him to recur to
a topic that I could not and dared not seriously en-
tertain. Therefore, for the purpose of giving the
discourse an immediate turn, I said, " What a re-
markably beautiful woman is Lady Lilla Essen-
dine !"

"Yea," observed St. Clair, with such a careless-
ness of tone and listlessness of manner that I was
startled as much with astonishment thereat as at
the announcement which his words themselves con-
veyed ; " my aunt has always been considered a
great beauty."

" Your aunt ?" and I gaaed upon him in wonder-
tnent.

" Oh, yes— she is my aunt," replied St. Clair.
•' I thought perhaps the Parkses might have told
you so."

" I never saw Lady Lilla Essendine before this
evening," I responded : " nor did I ever before hear
her name mentioned. But is it possible "

" It is quite possible for L:\dy Lilla Essendine
to be my aunt hy marriage," rejoined St. Clair,
with a peculiar smile upon his lips, and with that
singular expression to which 1 have bofore alluded,
transiently sweeping over his countouance. " My

uncle Sir George Essendine was my mother's
brother. He was a General in the army, and a
Knight of the Cross and Bath. He was immensely
rich— eccentric in his manners, and peculiar in his
habits. After having been a widower for many
long years, he suddenly took it into his head to
marry again. Lady Lilla captivated his fancy;
and as she was the portionless daughter of a high-
born but poor family — having a title too, you per-
ceive, in her own right — it was considered that her
patrician rank was a fair set-oif against my uncle's
wealth. As to the discrepancies of age, I shall say
little or nothing : they speak for themselves, when
I tell jou that Lady Lilla was eighteen and Sir
George was sixty."

" Was it possible that she loved him P" I inge-
nuously asked.

" I believe she made him an excellent wife — or
at least the world said so :" — but there seemed to
be something supercilious, if not absolutely flip-
pant in St. Clair's accents. " He paid the debt of
nature about a couple of years back : Lady Lilla
went abroad — she has only just returned from the
Continent — and indeed only just emerged from her
widow's weeds."

" But I have not seen you speak to her," I said :
and then I recollected that strange expression which
her ladyship's countenance had struck me as wear-
ing for an instant when St. Clair entered tha
room.

" Miss Percy," he answered, " there can be no
harm in telling you that Lady Lilla detests me.
Alt the world knows that we have been at variance
ever since my uncle's death ; and the reason is of
course palpable enough. Sir George died intes-
tate ; and I, as his legal heir, took possession of
everything."

" Then he had made no provision for his wife ?"
I observed.

"None whatsoever," answered St. Clair: "for
as I have just told you, he died without a will.
Her ladyship expected to inherit everything: but
she found herself the heiress to nothing. Now,
in the first place you may suppose that I was never
very well pleased with a match that might pos-
sibly have cut me out of all my uncle's wealth ;
and I had all the more reason to complain of it,
because he had promised to make me his heir-
he had adopted me at my parents' death — he had
put me into the Guards — he had brought me up
with the idea that I should be wealthy— and thus
he had encouraged me in expensive tastes and
habits. All those who knew us can testify whether
I was a dutiful nephew or not. I gave him no
cause for taking a step which might have had the
effect of disinheritiog me ; and therefore, as a
young man thus situated, I natursrily felt some-
what chagrined at the idea of being sacrificed to
an o!d man's suddenly formed caprice for a pretty
girl. Not that I ever betrayed this displeasure,
nor gave vent to my wounded feelings. Oa the
contrary, I continued dutiful, respectful, and
obedient to my uncle until the very last. But
still Lady Lilla was aware of my aversion to the
match. It did not even require much exercise of
woman's naturally sharp instinct to penetrate that
fact: all cifcumstances were calculated to striko
her with the conviction that it must be so. And
therefore she detested me."

" This was by no means a good trait in her cha-

racter," I observed : and at the same time I could
not help admiring the conduct of Edwin St. Clair
in baTing studied to conceal from his late uncle
the aversion which he so very naturally entertained
for such a match.

" I do not wish to speak ill against my aunt,"
continued St. Clair, whose tone and manner had
gradually subsided from superciliousness and flip-
pancy into seriousness : " indeed I hate saying an
unkiud word of any one. Much less, Ellen, would
I seek to prejudice you against a lady with whom
you may possibly become acquainted "

" I have already been introduced by Mrs. Parks
to Lady Lilla Essendine," I observed; "and I do
not hesitate to admit that she impressed me with
everything in her favour. She was not exactly
condescending — for that would imply that she
stooped and unbent in a patronising manner;
whereas she was most graciously affable and kindly
courteous."

" Yes — she is polished and well-bred," remarked
St. Clair. " But I have not quite made an end
of my story. My uncle's death — which occurred
suddenly, by the lightning-stroke of apoplexy-
raised me all in a moment to the possession of
some five-and-twenty thousand a year. Now tell
me candidly — was it probable that I should aban-
don all my rights to the young wife he had chosen
and whom he had left a widow behind him ? The
page of the wildest romance never presented such
an illustration of self-sacrifice and self-abnegation.
It would not have been magnanimous : it would
have been simply preposterous. But still I was
not altogether selfish ; and whatever the world
may think — whatever you likewise may think,
Ellen — I give myself credit for some little degree
of generosity in the course that I pursued. I
offered to make a settlement of three thousand a
year on Lady Lilla Essendine. Would you be-
lieve it ? she scorned the proposal! And now can
you wonder that I have not accosted her in order
to pay my respects ? or can you suppose that I
entertain any respect at all for one who has given
such unmistakable evidences of bo rancorous a
hatred against me ?"

" I am sorry to hear all this," I observed : " for
when one has formed a favourable opinion of an-
other, one does not like to have that opinion
diminished and depreciated. I presume you did
not expect to meet Lady Lilla Essendine here to-
night ?"

" To tell you the truth," answered St. Clair, « I
was not altogether very much astonished : for Mr.
Parks is her solicitor "

"Indeed!" I exclaimed: and now I compre-
prehended wherefore her ladyship should have
been so familiar and intimate with Mrs. Parks.

"I ought to tell you," continued St. Clair, " that
although Lady Lilla was portionless when she
espoused my uncle, yet that a little while after the
marriage her godfather died— some wealthy old
gentleman whose name I forget — and who left her
fifteen hundred a year in his will. Mr. Parks was
one of the executors ; and hence his acquaintance
with her ladyship. Of course that money was
settled at the time upon herself; and it constitutes
the income upon which she lives."

While Captain St. Clair was giving me these ex-
planations, I frequently glanced furtively across the
room, in order to observe where Lady Lilla was

seated, and whether she were paying any attention
to us. Not once, however, did I notice that she
was looking in our direction: she was surrounded
by several ladies and gentlemen, with whom she
appeared to be conversing most gaily.

" You see, Ellen," continued St. Clair, after a
brief pause, " that I have entered confidentially and
frankly into all these details with you; and there-
fore, should your acquaintance with Lady Lilla
Essendine grow more intimate— I mean should you
meet her beneath this roof and hear her speak to
my disparagement — you will not give heed to her
vindictive misrepresentations : you will know of
what value to estimate them."

" It is not probable that I shall often meet her
ladyship," I responded : " for when once a certain
event shall have taken place, it is not likely that
one of her ladyship's rank and position will conde-
scend to make a friend or companion of me. I
begin to understand. Captain St. Clair, what the
world thinks of "

"Ellen, to what do you allude?" he ejaculated}
and it was with an air of the most unfeigned as-
tonishment that he gazed upon me.

"Do you not know," I answered, "that this day
fortnight I am— to— to — " and I scarcely knew why
I hesitated— "to make my debut?"

" Ellen, what change has come over you ? what
does this mean?" asked St. Clair, with a look of the
deepest distress. "Tell me — for God's sake tell
me, what am I to understand ?"

It was now my turn to contemplate him with
amazement ; but gradually vague suspicions began
to flutter in my mind ; and I had a comprehension
— though a dim one — of what he meant and of the
special subjects to which he was alluding. I grew
frightened — and all the more so because his own
manner betrayed the evidences of a profound ex*
citement.

"We cannot talk here!" be suddenly said in a
voice so altered from its usual tone that it en-
hanced my terror. " Come !" and with this curtly
added invitation, he abruptly rose from his seat
and proffered me his arm.

I should observe that we had sat somewhat re-
tired from the rest of the company -. our discourse
had been carried on in a sufficiently low tone to
be only audible to ourselves ; and I had no reason
for supposing that any one had perceived the ex-
citement which both of us had been betraying for
the last few instants. I felt the necessity of
coming to an immediate explanation with Captain
St. Clair ; those vague suspicions to which I have
already alluded, made me half comprehend how
and when I had committed myself — or rather, I
should say, by what circumstance my own conduct
had been rendered such as to lead St. Clair hiin-
self into error as to my sentiments with regard to
him. Anxiou3, therefore, to explain away those
impressions, I accepted his arm ; and he led me
into the refreshment-room. This was a spacious
apartment, with a large table at one extremity,
where several neatly attired servant-maids were
dispensing lemonade, negus, ices, and other refresh-
ments to those guests who required them. St.
Clair led me to a seat at the opposite extremity, and
as the band in the grand saloon struck up at the
moment for another dance, the loungers in the re-
freshment-room quickly sped away thither. St.
Clair and I therefore remained alone aa it were :

EllEX PEKCT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OV AN ACTEESa.

for the servant-girls at the other end of the spacious
apartment were now busj in the arrangements of
the table.

"Ellen," he said in a low voice, but which was
tremulously clear, " is it possible that I could have
misunderstood jou, or that jou could have misun-
derstood me at the theatre the other night ? for I
know you too well to believe for an instant that
you would be guilty of a heartless coquetry. In-
deed, I would not insult you by such a suspicion!"

" Yes — there must have been some serious mis-
understanding," I answered, quivering with ner-
vous agitation : " and. Oh ! Captain St. Clair, I shall
be very, very unhappy if through any folly or in-
advertence on my part But no !" I suddenly in-
terrupted myself, as I regained my presence of
mind : " I merit not the reproach of either folly or
inadvertence ; and as for coquetry, I am incapable
of it. Eut I was so shocked with the idea of that
duel the spectacle of your injured arm pro-
duced such an effect upon me and there were

other reasons— other fi elings indeed in a word,

Captain St. Clair, my brain was in a whirl — I was
not the mistress of myself — and as heaven is my
witness, I scarcely comprehended all that you said
to me at last !"

" Is this possible, Ellon ?" and St. Clair looked
at me with au earnestness as if to penetrate into
all the purposes of my soul and fathom its very
depths.

" It is true. Captain St. Clair !" I responded,
steadily meeting that gaze for a sufficient time
to prove my sincerity — though at length my looks
sank beneath it, as the blush of confusion rose up
to my cheeks.

"But one word, Ellen!— one word!" said St.
Clair, in a feverish state of the most anxious sus-
pense. " Am I an object of indifference to you ?"

"An object of indifference Captain St. Clair can
never be," I replied ; " for he has laid me under
too many obligations. Gratitude has engendered
friendship "

"Friendship? O Ellen, that is a cold word!" he
interrupted me ; "and after all that I had hoped—
all that I had fancied— all that I had believed — it
falls like ice upon my heart ! Good heavens, under
what a delusion have I been labouring! The other
night 1 spoke as delicately and considerately as I
could ; for I did not choose to have the appearance
of ungenerously availing myself of the little ser-
vices I had rendered you, in order to urge my own
suit. But you gave me to understand that you
would be mine— that you would renounce all idea
of going upon the stage — that our engagement
for the present was to be kept a secret until the
requisite arrangements "

"Captain St. Clair," I interrupted him, " you
know not how ineffable is the pain which your
words occasion me ! Alas, I feel that they are in-
deed only to true ! I now comprehend it all !— that
which was before dim, hazy, and obscure, has be-
come light and transparent. I am shocked at
the error which has occurred; and though inno-
cent Oh ! God knows, that I am innocent of

any wilful deception or dissimulation ! — yet do I
blame myself — I could weep in very anger, vexa-
tion, and despair at my own weakness and absence
of self-command !"

" But it is impossible, Ellen, that you can plunge
me into such misery!" said St. Clair vehemently;

— "impossible that you can dash down and break
the golden bawl of hope which you yourself placed
in my hands! — or that you can all in a momout
distinguish the lustre of that ineffable star on whicli
my adoring gaze has been fixed ! Say not that you
will do it, Ellen I — admit that things have gone too
far ! Some days have elapsed since that conversa-
tion at the theatre 1 have seen you daily — aud

if in consequence of the Normans' presence I
touched not upon the subject, it was because of that
agreement of secresy "

" Captain St. Clair, listen to me !" I interrupted
him : and again I was armed with all my self-pos-
session. " Deeply, deeply do I deplore the misunder-
standing which has occurred, and which must even
tend to place my conduct in a peculiar— aye, al-
most indelicate light — unless you in your gene-
rosity give me credit for the sincerity of my pre-
sent explanations. And pray remember that a
sense of gratitude in the first instance induced me
to listen the other night to language which other-
wise I should have suffered you to perceive was
disagreeable. Now at length let every thing bo
intelligible ! Pray suffer me to regard you as a
friend!— pray continue to honour me with your
friendship!— but on the one subject let nothing
more be said !"

St. Clair listened with every appearance of the
deepest distress, and infinitely was I pained by the
expression which his countenance wore. Then all
of a sudden I observed that strange — that peculiar
— that almost affrighting look take possession of
his features — that look to which I have before
alluded, and which it did one harm to behold !

"Ellen," he said, clutching me by the wrist so
forcibly that for an instant I could have shrieked
out with the pain, " tell me, once and for all, is it
impossible that you can become mine ?"

The service he had rendered me in the adventure
of Colonel Bellew — the duel he had fought — the
wound which he had received — the indisposition
which had followed — the sincerity of that love
which was proved by the offer of his hand to one
so humble, so obscure, so poor as I — and the delu-
sion of hope in which my own conduct, though so
involuntary and so innocent, had cradled him— all
these considerations swept like a whirlwind through
my mind; and for an instant the purposes of my
soul were utterly giving way — my fortitude was
melting into thinnest vapour — my self-possessioa
was sinking like a thaw when the sua is up. But
the next instant I was again the mistress of myself j
my sense of duty became paramount ; and along
the vista of distance the countenance of my cousiu
Harry appeared to be looking with the saddest
expression of reproach upon me, until all in a mo-
ment the handsome brown eyes appeared to light
up with joy as the resolve grew strong in my own
heart. And thus was it that even with emphasis
did I find myself nerved to breathe the response to
St, Clair's question — and that response was con-
veyed in the word, " Impossible ! "

St. Clair gazed upon me for a few instants with
a look the indesribable reproachfulness and anguish
of which struck like the sense of a calamity or a
crime upon my heart. Then he slowly rose from
his seat, and said in a deep, coarcely audible tone,
"Farewell, Ellen! farewell for ever !"

I was petrified with the idea of having perpe-
trated some enormous i^-'ratitudo towards one who

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

had perilled his life fur me ; and I could not have
given utterance to a word even if I had wished to
speak. St. Clair moved slowly avay ; and as he
reached the door of the apartment he stopped and
turned for an instant : then the next moment he
disappeared from my view — leaving me still stupe-
fied beneath the influence of that last sad and re-
proachful look.

CHAPTEE X.

LADY LILLA ESSEIfDINB.

Foe several minutes I sat as if in the midst of a
dream — in a sort of consternation and bewilderment
which I cannot possibly explain. But slowly into
my mind came the reflection that I had done my
duty — that there really was no ingratitude in re-
fusing to bestow my hand where I could not give
my heart — but that it would be most dishonourable
and improper on mv part to wed where I could not
love. And again — Oh ! again did imagination de-
pict my cousin's handsome brown eyes looking
upon me with joyous approval along the vista of
distance !

Composing my feelings and my countenance as
well as I was able, I pissed into the grand saloon
for the purpose of seeking tbe companionship of
Mrs. Parks. I could not however find her ; and I
sat down on a low velvet-covered ottoman, which
was ia a sort of nook, inasmuch as the spot was
concealed from the general view by the high back
of a magnificent chair. There I fell into a profound
reverie— thinking of all that had occurred, but
more and more satisfied with the course which I
had adopted, notwithstanding that I was still
deeply pained at the misconception into which St.
Clair had fallen— the false hopes it had given him
—and the distress occasioned by the destruction of
the vision he had built up,

I had been sitting for several minutes in that
spot, which was at first so retired, — when I gra-
dually became aware that voices were now speaking
near me ; and my ear caught that of Lady Lilla
Essendine.

" Count Delia Monti is evidently enamoured of
that beautiful girl with whom he was just now
dancing. And no wonder ! for she is certainly the
helle of the assemblage."

These were the words which Lady Lilla Essen-
dine was uttering at the moment; and immediately
afterwards Count Delia ilonti saiJ, in a tone which
showed that he was smiling, "Your ladyship
fors;et3 that I am married : or else indeed "

"But where is this charming creature?" in-
quired another masculino voice, speaking with a
strong foreign accent. " I shall request Mrs. Parks
to introduce me, that I may have the pleasure of
dancing the next quadrille "

"I saw her just now in company with Captain
St. Clair," replied Lady Lilla. " And between our-
selves," she continued, adopting a tone of mys-
terious confidenc?, " I am very sorry for it. It
strikes me that Captain St. Clair is paying his ad-
dresses in that quarter : but Miss Percy has yet to
learn his true character ; and as I have conceived
a great affection for her, although we have not as
yet exchanged more than half-a-dozen words, I
shall feel it my duty "

" Indeed !" interrupted a voice which I recoif.
nised to bo Delia Monti's; "I never yet heard
anything prejudicial to St. Clair. I have been
some years in England, and know him well "

" Are you ignorant of the fact that there is a
relationship between himself and me," asked Lady
Lilla ; " and that therefore I may perhaps know
something more of him — I mean in his private
character ?"

I can scarcely explain what sentiment it was
which inspired me at the moment, — whether it were
that I did not choose any longer to be an unseen
listener to a discourse which regarded myself — or
whether it were that after all St. Clair had told me,
I felt indignant at hearing his character thus run
down by one who I fancied ought in justice to speak
far otherwise of him : but certain it is that I sud-
denly rose up from my seat. I thus emerged as it
were from behind the back of tbe very chair in
which Lady Lilla had seated herself, and whence
she was addressing some three or four foreign
attaches who had grouped themselves about her.
My presence was not instantaneously perceived;
and I was beginning to move away from the spot
in order to seek another part of the room, when
Lady Lilla, catching sight of me, started up
and said, " Miss. Percy, where have you been ?
You were just now the object of our conversa-
tion "

'• I know it, my lady," I answered : " but I was
an unintentional listener :" — and then, full of con-
fusion, I was hastening away, when Lady Lilla
caught me by the arm.

" If you listened —if you overheard what we
said," she whispered with rapidity, " I owe you
some explanations, and I must give them."

Having thus spoken, she turned for an instant
and gracefully inclined her head towards the
foreigners, as much as to request that they would
excuse her for so abruptly leaving them.

" Come with me. Miss Percy," she said : " there
is a room set apart for the display of some very
beautiful prints — we shall perhaps find it unoccupied
as the dancing is about to recommence."

I suffered Lady Lilla Essendine to lead me to
that room to which she had alluded ; and, as she
had predicted, we found it unoccupied. She closed
the door, and was about to address me — when I
immediately said, " No explanations are requisite,
Lady Lilla ; for I can assure you that there is
nothing between myself and Captain St. Clair
which renders it needful for me to seek informa-
tion concerning him."

Por a moment her ladyship looked astonished :
then a smile of incredulity wavered upon her lips;
and as it passed away, she said, '• Perhaps you
may not think that I observed you just now: —
but I did. You were listening with a more
than ordinary attention to what St Clair was
saying : you retired with him to the refreshment-
room — a glance which I flung in through the door-
way, showed me that you were seated there alone
with him — alone, with the exception of the ser-
vants ; and by the looks and manner of both of
you, it was plain to me that your conversation
was not that of mere acquaintances. Miss Percy,
think not that I am imbued with any unbecoming
curiosity : but when I beheld a beautiful and
amiable young lady such as you, listening to the
insidious language of that man—"

BLIiEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIE3 OF AN ACTRESS.

"Lady Lilla," I interrupted her, somewhat
haughtily, or at least coldly, "it. is neither con-
sistent with my ideas of propriety nor with the
actual state of circumstances, to listen to a dis-
course upon Captain St. Clair's character "

"I understand !" ejaculated her ladyship: and
an expression of mingled scorn and hate for an
instant appeared upon her countenance— curling
her lips or vivid vermilion, and flashing in her eyes
of beautiful blue : but as that expression almost
immediately passed away, she took my hand, and
with the sweetest, most captivating, most winning
smile, said, "Permit me, Miss Percy, to be your
friend !— permit me to act as such ! I have no j
difficulty in comprehending that Captain St. Clair
has spoken to you prejudicially of me. Yes— I
see by your countenance that it is so ! But he j
dares not — no, he dares not " I

Lady Lilla suddenly stopped short ; and I can ^
scarcely describe the expression which for a mo- |
ment swept over her features. It was an expres- i
sion of mingled hate and defiance— but with some |
other feeling blended, which I could not then un-
derstand—a feeling which however seemed to me
to be of a deeper and darker quality. I was
almost frightened : for again did I remember the ;
expression of her countenance when St. Clair first
made his appearance ; and it did me harm to think
that one so exquisitely beautiful could have her 1
features actually distorted by the strong passions
that surged up within— and that one, who in her
ordinary moments had the face of an angel, could I
with those eyes and lips, and those perfect con- !
tours of profile, take the aspect of a fiend. |

"Miss Percy," she continued, "pardon this!

emotion: but if you knew all that I know j

And you must know it ! for I see that St Clair is |
weaving his spells around you j and though you ;
may as yet have escaped their influence — though I
you may be even to a certain extent unconscious
that these fascinations are at work to enmesh you ^
—yet be not tco confident ! — and at all events i
suffer yourself to be placed upon your guard ! I I
declare unto you that my only object is to serve
you as a friend !"

There was something so apparently sincere —
something which I believed to be so candidly
earnest in Lady Lilla's look and language, that I
lost sight of the injunction of St. Clair not to
heed what fell from her lips. Besides, 1 must
confess that though I considered everything be-
tween myself and St. Clair to be utterly at an end,
as indeed I wished it to be, — yet the conversation
was now assuming a sort of fearful interest. I
therefore listened, and lingered in the room.

" Captain St. Clair," continued Lady Lilla,
" conceals beneath that exquisite polish of manner
a heart capable of every atrocity. Believe me that
it is so ! Perhaps he has told you that I hate him ;
perhaps he has said this in order to account for the
fact that we spoke not to each other when we acci-
dentally met here to-night. But if I detest him it
is on account of that wickedness of which he has
been guilty, and which has come to my knowledge.
Listen, Miss Percy — listen my dear Ellen ! for we
must be friends ; and when you come to know mo
better you will wonder that even for an instant
you could have mistrusted my motives — as I see
that you have done."

" But I assure your ladyship," I interrupted her

— for it struck me I had no right to give way to the
curiosity which had seized upon me—" there is
nothing between myself and Captaia St. Clair."

"Nothing?" she said, again looking at me in-
credulously." Oh, then ! there has been P Per-
haps you have rejected him! Ah! that tell-tale
blush confirms the idea ! My dear Ellen, even
though St. Clair should affect to bid you farewell
forever, yet rest assured that he will return!— you
are too beautiful and too innocent for him to de-
sist from the hope of conquest ! Tou must be put
upon your guard, for fear lest pardon the ex-
pression! for fear lest, I say, you should be*

come his victim !"

I shuddered as these words were uttered with
the strongest emphasis that the naturally musical
voice of Lady Lilla could impart to her language;
and that fearful feeling of curiosity which had al-
ready seized upon me, now deepened.

"Yes, his victim! I repeat!" continued Lady

Lilla; " his victim ! 1 could tell you a tale But

I will not now ! No 1 would not shock you

to such an extent ! But still I must tell you
enough to convince you of my sincerity, and to
prove to you his consciousness of darkest, deepest
villany. Should he seek you again — should ho
breathe the language of love in your ear — make use
of a talisman which will send him in affright and
in horror from you. There is that camelia in your
hair — — "

"The camelia?" I ejaculated, astonished at
what appeared to be the sudden flying off at a
tangent from a subject fearfully serious to one
ludicrously frivolous in comparison.

" Attend to me!" continued Lady Lilla Essen-
dine, still with a most impressive earnestness.
" If St. Clair should again accost you with the
language of love this evening, take that camelia
from your hair— present it to him suddenly— and
demand of him, ' Do you recognise the si/mhol V
— Or if at any other time or place he should
henceforth accost you, snatch up a flower from the
nearest vase if it be in a room — or pluck one, if it
be in the garden or the field— and while presenting
it put the same question! Oh! you will judge
by the effect whether there be not some ghastly
meaning attached to it! — a meaning which would
shock your soul with the idea of espousing one
whom such a sinister mystery enshrouds !"

I listened with a sort of consternation to this
singular language, — a language which appeared to
be filled with the wildest horror of a romance. I
longed to ask questions— but dared not : there was
something in the whole scene which filled the mind
with the stupor of awe.

"No more at present, my dear Ellf n !" said
Lady Lilla Essendine. " And remember— it is
under the seal of inviolable secresy that I havo
been speaking ! Not a syllable of all this to any
of your friends ! You have now the power to
put St. Clair to the test ; and if he should perse-
cute you with his addresses, you have a talisman
to make him flee from your presence. Compose
your looks— compose your feelings likewise— and
let us return to the ball-room."

Lady Lilla ceased speaking : but she^ lingered
in the apartment for a few minutes, in order, no
doubt, to afford me leisure to tranquillize myself.
I felt the necessity to do so to the utmost of my
power : for at any instant other guests might enter

ELLEN PEECT; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES8.

the room where the scene was occurring. I issued
forth with her ladyship ; and on returning to the
saloon, swept my glances around to ascertain
whether Edwin St. Clair was still present. But
he was nowhere to be seen ; and I felt relieved, —
for Lady Lilla's strange, wild, and I may even say
terribly mysterious language had filled me with the
deepest misgivings as to her nephew's character.
Mrs. Parks accosted her ladyship and mvself, and
requested us both to dance, partners being at hand
for the purpose. Lilla flung upon me a look to
enjoin compliance; and I complied — for I felt as if
I were an automaton under the influence of some
strange spell which she was enabled to wield over
me. The evening passed away without any other
incident worthy of mention ; and Mr. Parks's car-
riage conveyed mo in safety back to Hunter
Street.

"When, on the following day, I reflected on every-
thing that had occurred, I was bewildered what to
think. It was true that St. Clair was no object of
the heart's interest to me : but still I could not
possibly help thinking of him in connexion with
the events that had taken place and the strange
mysterious language I had heard. Could I believe
that he was so wicked as he had been represented ?
— or, on the other hand, was I to come to the con-
clusion that Lady Lilla's statements emanated from
a diabolic malignity ? I knew not how to shape
my conjectures : but most sincerely did I hope that
1 should see no more of St. Clair — while I was
equally resolved to avoid the society of Lady Lilla
Essendine.

In the afternoon of that same day which suc-
ceeded the ball, Juliet Norman, on returning from
rehearsal, said to me, " Have you heard about our
poor friend Melissa ? She is exceedingly ill "

"111?" I ejaculated, much pained by the intel-
ligence. " How long has she been ill— that poor
creature !"

" I only just heard it at the theatre ; and if I had
time," continued Juliet, "I would go at once to
Bee her : but the dinner-hour is at hand "

" I will go !" I said ; " my time is at present my
own. Where does she live ?"

Juliet wrote down the address; and she bade me
say everything kind to Melissa on her account, as
■well as to convey a promise that she would call
upon the invalid on the morrow. I hastened to
put on my bonnet and mantle ; and a hackney-
coach being summoned, I proceeded to the address
indicated on the slip of paper which Juliet had
given me. It was rather a poor street, at no very
great distance from the Normans' dwelling : and on
alighting from the hackney-coach, my summons at
the front door of the house was answered by a dirty
drab of a servant-of-all-work.

" Miss Harrison," I said, " iires here— does she
not ?"

"Yes, miss: but she be ill abed," replied the
domestic. " Second-floor— front," she added, thus
curtly indicating the room to which I was to
ascend.

I mounted a narrow staircase, covered with oil-
cloth instead of carpet : and on reaching the door
of the front room on the second floor, I knocked
gently. Melissa's voice, speaking feebly, bade me
enter: and I passed in. The chamber in which I
row found myself, was indifferently if not poorly
furnished ; and it had a somewhat slovenlj appear

ance. Garments were scattered upon the floor;
and there was a total absence of that neatness which
I should have expected to be associated with the
dwelling of Melissa Harrison. A number of thea.
trical portraits were hung to the walls ; and one or
two drawers being half open, afforded glimpses of
muslin dresses covered with tinsel.

Melissa herself lay in bed : her countenance was
wan and sickly, with blueish circles round the
eyes — so that it seemed as if death's finger had
already touched her face. A smile of grateful
satisfaction appeared upon her lips as I entered
the room ; and the tears starting from her eyes,
she exclaimed, " Oh, this is indeed most kind of
you !"

" How long have you been ill, my dear Me-
lissa P" Tasked, as I pressed her hand and sat
down by the side of the couch.

" Por several days, Ellen," she responded—
" ever since that conversation which you and I
had together. It affected me more thau it did
you at the time— because you could not enter feel-
ingly into its spirit — whereas 1 had all the ex-
periences "

" Ob, I cau assure you it made its impression
upon me !" I interrupted her. "But why did you
not send to tell the Normans and myself that you
were ill ? I)id you not know," I asked, in a voice
of gentle reproach, " that we should hasten to sco
you ? Here are flowers which I have brought to
give the room a cheerful appearance ; and Juliet
will come early to-morrow morning, to bring you
jellies and other delicacies ''

" I should have sent to you, Ellen," answered
Melissa, with a slight flush now rising upon her
previously wan cheeks ; " but — but — my abode is
not such as I have any reason to be proud of.
The Normans believe I am better lodged ; and I
gave you also to understand in the discourse which
we had the other day, that pecuniary circumstances
had ceased to be the source of any unhappiness on
my part "

" I should have flown to see you, Melissa," I
responded, " even if you had lived in a garret !
But now that I am here, pray tell me what I can
do for you. Have you a doctor ?"

" Yes," replied Melissa : and then, as the tears
trickled down her pale cheeks, she added, " And
he says that I am very far from well : he tells me
that I shall never be able to go upon the stage
again— it would be death to me! O Ellen, I
know — I feel that I am in a decline : consumption
has seized upon its victim ! I shall perish soon —
the grave is yawning to receive me — and I who
have so much to live for !"

The unhappy young woman now burst into a
perfect agony of weeping ; and bending over the
pillow, I said all I could to console her.

" Do not give way to these apprehensions," I
whispered : " you are young — and the strength of
your constitution may assert itself. Ob, yes ! it
will— believe me, it will ! You are too much alone
— and dark thoughts get possession of you. You
ought to have sent for your friends. But now
that Juliet and I know you are ill, we will come to
you often — we will watch by the side of your couch
— we will take our turns in being your companions
— we will do all we can to comfort and make you
well."

Melissa took tnj band, and pressed it to her lips.

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTRESS.

Her tears continuerl to flow forth freely : her bosom
heaved with emotions which appeared to be suffo-
cating^ her.

" Tell me, my dear friend," I said, deeply af-
fected, " is there anything I can do for your com-
fort or solace ? Methinks there is something upon
your mind "

" Ellen," said Melissa, " sit down by my side
again— and I will give you my confidence. But
to you alone must this tale be told — and to no
one else ; for you will afford me your sympathy —
a sympathy which I am not sure of receiving from
others !"

" Oh ! from me, Melissa, you shall receive sym-
pathy !" I exclaimed ; " and if having told me
your tale, whatsoever it may be, you require any
service done— if in any way my poor assistance
may avail you— rest assured that it shall be ren-
dered !"

Again did Miss Ilarrison press my hand to her
Ho, 7.— Ellen Feboy.

lips with the most fervent gratitude ; and she
moistened it with her tears. I saw that though
in one sense anxious to make me her confidant^
yet in another she was struggling against somfc
different and deeper feeling, as if with the reluot*
ance arising from shame.

" Ellen," she began, as a blush again tinged her
cheeks, and heightening into hectic spots, re*
mained impressed there like fever's or consump*
tion's emblems ; " I spoke to you the other day.
of the miseries to which many of my profession
are exposed ; and I hinted how these miseries en<
hanced the power of temptations. Left an orphan
at an age when the care of parents was so neces-
sary— Oh, so necessary ! I experienced all those
miseries, and became surrounded with all those
temptations. Long, long did I endure the former
and combat against the latter: bat the first be-
came too poignant and the latter too irresistible*
i For when poverty, like a gaunt spectre, staret you

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTSESS.

in tne face — when whichever way you turn, it
meets your eyes — when you behold it on the right
nana and feel it touching you on the left — when
it circles about you, hems you in as it were,
Dreathes its icy breath upon you by day, and lays
its glacial hand on you by night to freeze the very
marrow in your bones, — Ob, theti it is that crime
itself becomes gilded and resplendent if it only
constitute the means of procuring bread! And
then too, Ellen," continued Melissa, in a voice
that grew ominously low, and with the hectic
spots deepening upon her cheeks, — " and tlien too,
as the poor girl, driven to desperation, descends
from her ice-cold attic into the street, starvatioi;!
having wrought up her brain to frenzy — when, I
say, she stretches forth her hand in the hope that
God may put alms into it, the tempter comes and

drops gold upon that palm and then Sll is over !

The poor child of poverty has become the lost one
of crime !" i ■

" O Melissa !" t murmured, Bhuddering with
an intense horror ; " what dreadful things are
these which yoti are telling me !"

" Ah ! my dear, dea^ friend," said tlie unfortu-
nate young woman, " I am shocked at the neces-
sity which cotnpels me to reveal all this. But
still more am I shocked that to you — so pure, so
good, so innocent — such revelations should be
made ! Yet bear with me— listen, dearest Ellen !
Sfy tale, though sorrowful, is not long. It is the
common history of a woman's fall : the incidents
are the same with thousands and thousands and
tens of thousands. Yes — I fell : I became the
victim, not of my own willing levity — not of my

own unbridled passions for as there is a heaven

above us, Ellen, I had the same love of rectitude
which renders you brighter even in your virtue
than you are in your beauty ! But to die morally,
or to die suicidally, — these were the alternativies :
and. Oh, my God ! 1 could not lay violent hands upon
mysel'i — I could not plunge into the dark stream
in search of that pearl. Oblivion, which is said to
lie in the ptofundities ot the Lethean waters !
Therefore I die^ the moral death : I severed the
golden cord which held me bound to the portals of
virtue's temple. Thus I fell, Ellen : I became the
mistress of one who vowed that he loved me, and
that he would ever treat me with kindness !"

Melissa's voice sank tremulously until it became
absorbed in the sufifocatiou of sobs and tears ; and
tor awhile she wept anew. I continued to be pro-
foundly affected : my own voice was choked : but
in order to express my sympathy, I pressed her
hand warmly in my own.

" Pew were acquainted with my shame," pro-
ceeded Melissa j " for it was veritable shame to
me, and not a willingly accepted infamy to be
paraded with recklessness or with hardihood.
Therefore I did my best to conceal my actual
position from those who knew me ; and at the
theatre it was never suspected. The Normans
knew it not : or else I should not have subse-
quently been received into their circle. You may
perhaps say, Ellen, that I was wrong, while know-
ing myself infamous, to intrude where propriety
was maintained. But, Oh ! who in this world will
proclaim their own guilt ? who will voluntarily
tear oiF the mask and expose the hideousness
which lies beneath ? No, no ! it is not consistent
With human nature ! And if not even to Juliet

1 Norman would I now confess all that I am reveai-
ing unto you, it is because she might feel indig-
nant that I, the polluted, have luingled in the
sphere of her parents' household. But let me con-
tinue my narrative. A child was the issue of that
frailty of mine, — a sweet infant girl on whooi I
bestowed my own name. My connexion with
her father has for some time ceased. The instant
I attained a sufficient degree of success to be en-
abled to command permanent engagements, with
a salary furnishing a competence, I severed neces-
sity's iron bond which had hitherto bound me to
a career of shame : I severed it — Oh ! far more
readily than I had snapped the golden one which
at the first bound me to the portals of virtue's
temple !"

Melissa again paused ; and as I bent over her,
I kissed her cheek, saying, " Great was the atone-
ment jou thus made for the past!"

"Heaven bless you, Ellen, for that soothing
assurance !" exclaimed Melissa, in a tone of in-
describable fervour. " My child has been well
cared for," she continued ; " and if I live thus
poorly in comparison with the salary which I re-
ceive, it is because I have done all this for my
little Melissa. She is in the care of a worthy
couple in the northern suburbs of London, and
who have had charge of her from her birth. Oh !
did T not proclaim just now that I had so much to
live for ?— and my God ! I am to die ! Wiia all
my strivings — with all my economics, t have been
unable to save aught beyond a feiv pounds; and
tbese, God help me ! are likely to slip away during
my illness, if it be prolonged. Ellen, it is the
thought of my child that fills mo with anguish,
and -that will prevent me from getting well, even
if otherwise I could! I have written a letter to
the father of that child : I have implored him to
do something that by making a certain provision
for her will lighten my heart of more than half its
cares. I was perplexing myself with the thought
of how to ensure the safe conveyance of this letter,
and how it might be backed by the personal appeal
of some kind and generous friend, — when you,
Ellen, made your appearance. It was God who
sent you : for I know that you will undertake this
task for me !"

" I will, Melissa— Oh, I will with cheerfulness !"
I exclaimed : " and God grant that I may succeed
for your sake, and for that of the poor cbild in
whom I myself now feel so deeply, deeply in-
terested !"

"Alas, Ellen," proceeded Miss Harrison, "it
pains— it grieves me to be compelled to confess
that he — the father of my child — is indeed one
who may require to be entreated. Much deceived
was I in his character "

" Speak no more upon that point," I inter-
rupted Melissa ; for I saw that the subject caused
the acutest anguish. "Eest assured I will do all
that woman can in the fulfilment of so sacred a
mission ! And let me depart at once, so that if I
should be fortunate enough to return with good
tidings, you may be all the more speedily relieved
from a state of suspense."

Miss Harrison drew from beneath her pillow
the letter which she had written ; and as she placed
it in my hand, she reiterated her fervid thanks for
the part that I was performing towards her. I
bade her be of good cheer, and issued forth from

the house. On gaining the street, I looked at the
direction of tbe letter, and found that it was ad-
dressed to Alfred Peters, Esq., Duke Street, Man-
Chester Square. This being at some considerable
distance from Melissa's abode, I took a hackney-
coach to proceed to my destination. On alighting
at the house— which was in a very good street, and
in a fashionable quarter of the town — my sum-
mons at the front door was answered by a female-
servant, who had a somewhat brazen look, and
who surveyed me in no very respectful manner.
I inquired if Mr. Peters were at home : she an-
swered in the aflSrmative, — adding " I suppose you
have an invitation or appointment ?"

Methought there was something flippant, if not
altogether insolent, in the servant's speech : and
now for the first time it struck me that there
might be some impropriety in the mission which
I had undertaken on Miss Harrison's behalf. Until
this instant such an idea had not occurred to me ;
for during the ride my thoughts had been totally
absorbed in the tale I had heard, and in the hope
of being enabled to benefit one who had sufiFered so
deeply. However, I had now gone too far to re-
treat, even if such were my wish after the pro-
mises I had made Melissa to conduct the matter
to the best of my ability.

"I have neither invitation nor appointment,"
was the reply I gave to the female-servant's ques-
tion ; and summoning all my fortitude to my aid,
1 spoke with a calm dignity. " I wish to see Mr.
Peters upon a subject of some importance. I have
a letter for him, which I should prefer delivering
into his own hand."

" What name shall I announce P" inquired the
woman, now contemplating me with a little more
respect, but still in a manner as if she were at a
loss to make up her mind what to think of me.

" It is no use to give any name," I answered,
"as I am a total stranger to Mr. Peters; and I
come solely on behalf of another."

" Have the kindness to remain here for a mo-
ment," said the servant: then after a few instants'
hesitation and reflection, she added, " No ! Per-
haps, all things considered, it will be better for you
to walk up and see the I mean Mr. Peters at
once."

She led the way up a staircase to the first-floor
landing — on reaching which the sounds of female
voices laughing merrily, met my ears. I con-
cluded that Mr. Peters must be a married man ;
and now I was again stricken by an unpleasant
reflection : for how could I possibly acquit myself
of so delicate a mission in the presence of a wife
who must no doubt be utterly ignorant of his irre-
gular proceedings ? Accordingly, stopping short,
I hastily whispered to the servant, " It is not in
the presence of bis family that I wish to see Mr.
Peters."

The woman gave a strange subdued laugh, be-
tween a chuckle and a giggle — a laugh which I
by no means liked; and a species of terror took
possession of me. I would have questioned her
farther — I would have even made my retreat : but
it was too late. She flung open the door of a
back room, saying, " Here is a young lady, sir,
who wishes to see you."

I advanced mechanically; and just as I crossed
the thresliuld, the first object that struck me was
the form of a gentleman disappearing by means

of a door on the other sid* of the apartment. It
was with a sort of rush that he had thus beaten a
precipitate retreat ; and the impression instan-
taneously conveyed to my mind was that I had
thus caught a glimpse of Edwin St. Clair. At the
same moment I perceived that there were two
females in the room ; and the coarse unlady-like
laughter which burst from their lips, completed
my utter bewilderment and confusion. A dizzi-
ness seized upon my brain — a sudden film came
over my sight : it appeared as if I were all in a
moment enveloped in a mist ; — and I mechanically
handed Melissa's letter to a gentleman who at
first had his back turned towards me, but who now
rose from the table and suddenly accosted me.
An ejaculation burst from his lips : a half-stifled
shriek pealed forth from mine : — for I now recog-
nised Colonel Bellew !

CHAPTER XL

COtONpi, BEilEW'S H:0TT8H.

That shriek was produced by a sense of danger s
but it was the next moment succeeded by one of
mingled disgust, shame, and indignation, at the
thought that 1 had been introduced to a scene
which it was not fitting for a young maiden to
gaze upon. The room was well furnished : there
were shelves containing handsomely bound books
— there were pictures in splendid frames : and I
recollect also that I caught sight of a uniform, aa
well as of a sword and pistols. The table was
spread for breakfast ; and there were champagne
bottles upon it. The two young women who were
present, were negligently apparelled ; and their
looks were immodest and brazen. The Colonel
himself was in a morning negligee— & flowerei silk
dressing gown confined at tue waist by means of a
rich cord with heavy tassels. At the side of the
table nearest to the inner door, was a vacant chair:
a half-emptied champagne glass was also at the
place which a minute back had been occupied by
the individual who took to so precipitous a flight,
and who had struck me as being St. Clair.

" What ? Miss Percy I" exclaimed Colonel Bel-
lew. " Is it possible "

" Sir," I iuterrupted him, now feeling myself
nerved by all my courage and sustained by all my
feminine dignity, "if tbat letter be intended for
yourself, read it : but if I have made a mistake, I
beg you to return it to me."

Having thus spoken, I stepped out upon the
landing, from which the female-servant had dis-
appeared ; and I placed myself in such a manner
as to be hidden from the view of the two brazen
girls that were seated at the table. Colonel Bel-
lew glanced at the superscription of the letter ;
and immediately came forth upon the landing,
closing the door after him. He was in no way
confused nor embarrassed in my presence : but on
the other hand there was nothing ibsolent nor
disrespectful in his looks.

" Yes, Miss Percy," he said ! " this letter is for
me— and I know the handwriting. Will you havo
the kindness to walk in here ?"

Thus speaking, he threw open the door of a
front drawing-room : a glance showed me that the

LIBRARY

UNlVERSrPf OF n.L'N<«s

windows looked upon the street, and that one of
them was open. There was consequently no
danger to be anticipated : for at the slightest offer
of insult, a scream from my lips would at once
bring succour. As to remaining in the house at
all, and in the presence of one from whom I had
received such outrageous treatment, on a former
occasion, at another place — I must beg the reader
to bear ia mind that I considered I had a sacred
mission to perform on behalf of one who might be
perhaps stretched upon her death-bed — on behalf
too of a young child who might speedily be mother*
less: and these were paramount considerations
with me.

I therefore entered that room,— Colonel Bellew
following me. He politely indicated a chair : but
this I declined to accept; and he proceeded to
peruse the letter. I glanced at his countenance
to ascertain if there were any hope for poor Me-
lissa : but I must confess that in my own mind I
had little faith in the success of the very unplea-
sant mission I had undertaken. It was with a
cold calmness— indeed I might almost say with
indifference — that the Colonel read the missive ;
and then looking at me, he said, " Is she — Melissa
I mean— is she so very, very ill ?"

" She believes herself to be in a decline," I an-
swered ; " and the surgeon has prohibited her from
ever returning to the stage, even if she should rise
from this sick couch on which she is stretched."

" I will call upon her," said Colonel Bellew :
"but in the meantime. Miss Percy, I must of
course do something in the matter— —Perhaps
vou will suggest "

"You can well understand, sir," I responded^
" that it must be indeed painful for me to linger
here one instant more than is necessary : but if I
do so, it is only in the performance of a solemnly
undertaken duty. Melissa Harrison is in that
feverish and perturbed state of mind to which
every moment of suspense brings additional tor-
ture, and for which the realization of her last hope
would prove the most soothing balm. I beseech
you, sir, to allow me to become the bearer of con-
solatory intelligence. It is for the mother of your
child on whose behalf I am pleading!"

"Miss Percy," said Colonel Bellew, now speak-
ing with a deep seriousness, "you shall find that
I am prepared to do all that is needful and proper
in this distressing case. Indeed, it is sufficient
that you have come to plead on Melissa's be-
half "

" No, sir !" I ejaculated, as a sense of former
circumstances vividly inspired me : " I beg you
will not put it upon tJiat foundation. You may
easily suppose that had I known whom I was des-
tined to encounter here, and that the letter ad-
dressed to Mr. Peters would bring me into the
presence of Colonel Bellew, I should have hesi-
tated "

'•' Well, Miss Percy, let us not refer to the past,"
interrupted the Colonel. " I can assure you of my
readiness to act becomingly in the present instance.
You shall return as the bearer of a substantial proof
of my sincerity; and in the course of the day I
will consult my solicitor, so that we may best de-
vise the means of making a provision for the child
in case anything should happen to Melissa. Have
the goodness to await me here a few instants,
while I fetch my cheque-book."

Having thus spoken, the Colonel issued from
the room, closing the door after him. Despite my
previous misgivings, I had now no longer any
\ doubt in his sincerity ; and I could not help think-
ing that whatsoever he might be about to do, was
not so much on Melissa's account as it was a sort
of atonement for his conduct towards myself.

The room in which I now remained alone was
handsomely furnished : it was even characterized
by taste and elegance, though nothing indicated
that a female genius presided over its appoint-
ments. There were vases of flowers upon the
tables — but no work-box, — none of those little
nick-nacks which indicate the presence of ladies
in a house. Nor indeed was this to be wondered
at, considering the equivocal company which I had
found Colonel Bellew entertaining. Again recurred
to my mind the sudden impression made upon it,
that it was St. Clair whom I had seen disappearing
so abruptly from the other room, as if startled by
my presence : but still I could scarcely think that
my surmise was correct : for would he now be so
intimate with the man with whom he had fought
a duel? — would he with all his avowed love for
me, court the society of the individual from whose
outrageous insolence he had proved my deliverer ?
And then, too, St. Clair — that man of elegant
taste and polished refinement — in the company of
those brazen creatures !— was the idea credible ? If
so, then truly everything Lady Lilla Essendine
had told me concerning him, must be correct; and
happy, happy indeed was I to have escaped the
beguilement of the language which flowed from
his lips !

I was in the midst of these reflections, when
the door opened. I looked round — I started as
if suddenly galvanized : for it was not Colonel
Bellew, but St. Clair himself who now made his
appearance !

The conviction that everything I had heard to
St. Clair's prejudice was only too true, all in a mo-
ment became stamped upon my mind ; and my
cheeks glowed with indignation at the thought
that he dared obtrude himself upon my presence,
bringing with him, as it were, the atmosphere of
pollution which he had been breathing in the
neighbouring apartment. A sense too of some
meditated treachery smote me : but my indigna-
tion rose above my fears ; and I said, " I perceive,
sir, that this is no place for me to linger another
moment in !"

That expression, so peculiar and so sinistar, to
which I have already alluded, rose to Edwin St.
Clair's countenance, and assumed an aspect more
visibly wicked than ever it had taken before. It
appeared as if the fiend which lurked within, was
now completely throwing off the mass from be-
hind which it had hitherto only partially peeped
forth. 1 was affrighted : my courage was rapidly
ebbing away— and I sprang towards the door.

"You may go, Miss Percy," said St. Clair, in a
tone so scornfully withering and so full of satanic
defiance that it instantaneously arrested my steps :
" but remember that it will be with a ruined cha-
racter and a reputation irreparably destroyed!"

A shriek went forth from my lips. I felt as if
I were in the power of some demon terribly
potent to work every species of evil; and I invo-
luntarily clasped my hands in an appealing manner
as I turned towards him.

ELIEIT PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3.

"Do not doubt what I tell you," he continued.
"You know the man whom jou have met — you

have seen the company which he keeps "

" And, Oh ! how ia it possible," I exclaimed,
" that I find Captain St. Clair ia such com-
pany ?"

"A man goes everywhere," was his coldly given
answer; " and his reputation suffers not. But a
woman — Ah ! with her it is very different !"

The truth of this declaration at once struck me
most forcibly ; and. Oh ! how bitterly, bitterly did
I repent the zealous haste with which I had un-
dertaken Melissa Harrison's errand.

" Oh, Captain St. Clair," I exclaimed ; " 1 have
hitheito given you credit for the most generous
feelings — for the loftiest magnanimity ! Do not,
do not misjudge me ! Ob, in your own heart you
know that I am incapable — ■ — But Ah ! you can
satisfy yourself— you may learn what has brought
me hither, even if you be not already aware of it !"
Melissa Harrison's letter was open on the table,
where Colonel Bellow had tossed it down : I
snatched it up and handed it to St. Clair.

" It is unnecessary," he said : " I know full well,
Ellen, that you came hither with no evil pur-
pose "

"Oh J" I ejaculated : and I was about to give a
wildly fervent expression to my gratitude— when
I stopped short : I was transfixed with dismay —
the blood was turned to ice in my veins, as I en-
countered the deep fiendish wickedness of the look
which sprang up to St. Clair's features.

" Yes," he continued, " I know the purity of
your motives : but the world will judge far other-
wise! Now listen to me. As there's a heaven
above us, I have loved you — I still love you as
never did man love before ! I hesitate not to
avow that though young in years, I am old in the
world's pleasures. To all the fascinations and
charms of your sex I am no stranger : but never
have I encountered one who has made upon my
heart the same impression as yourself. Marriage !
I scorned the idea until I learnt to love you. But
to you,, Ellen, I offered my hand ; and I swear, as
I have a soul to be saved, that I was ready to
fulfil my pledge ! But you refused me. I bowed
my pride so low as to entreat and implore : and
Btill you refused me. Oh! you are the first
woman," he exclaimed, with scornful bitterness,
" who ever had the power of reducing my heart to
despair! Yes— but it was natural; for you were
the first of your sex who taught me no longer to
deride the romancist's page and the poet's verse in
which love is depicted as a deity having sway over
every heart. Yes— and you were the first whose
beauty cast veritable spells around me, and plunged
ma into that roseate dream in which one walks as
it were with the senses enthralled but with the
eyes open! For you, Ellen, I was prepared to
make every sacrifice. I myself already worshipped
you ; and as my bride would I have held you up
to the worship of the world also ! Ah, and there
were moments when I said to myself that the
triumphs of oratory which I had as yet achieved
when seeking only to gratify a comparatively idle
and cold ambition, were as nothing to those which
I could accomplish if the meed were to be the ap-
proval of your looks and your smiles ! But all
these dreams did you ruthlessly destroy — all these
hopes and visions did you dash to the ground !"

St. Clair had gone ou addressing me with im-
passioned vehemence; and w'uen he suddenly
ceased, he begaa pacing to and fro in an agitated
manner. I would fain have checked him : I would
have implored his mercy and his forbearance : but
I could not ! I was stupefied with affright, as well
as enthralled with the indescribably absorbing
interest which belonged to his powerful eloquence.
There could be no doubt as to his sincarity. It
was the heart that was speaking — no matter how
bad the heart itself might be — through the medium
of that wildly poetic language.

"Oh, you rejected me!" continued St. Clair:
"and you ought not to be astonished if with such
a being as I am, love should have turned to hatred.

But it has not as yet no, as yet it has not!

Accident has this day given me the present chance :
it has furnished me with one last opportunity.
Oh! compel me not to speak of coercion— force
me not to use the power which your own zealous
indiscretion — I mean on Melissa Harrison's behalf
— has now given me !"

"Coercion — power — indiscretion?" I raguely
murmured, affrighted at the sense which might be
attached to those words.

"Oh! do you not comprehend my meaning?"
exclaimed St. Clair, literally stamping his foot
with the vehemence of passion. " I love you so
deeply — so desperately, Ellen, that I am prepared
to resort to any means to make you mine. Yes —
if the Enemy of Mankind were to rise up before
me at this instant, and to demand the sacrifice of
my own soul as the price which I must pay for the
possession of your hand, Ellen, I would pay that
price !"

" Ob, this is dreadful !" I exclaimed, smitten
with an awful sense of terror ; and my limbs ap-
peared to be giving way under me.

"Dreadful it may be — but it is not the less
true !" replied St. Clair quickly : then advancing
to the window, he shut it down.

" Let me depart !" I exclaimed, affrighted at a
scene which appeared to forbode some terrible
calamity : for I saw that St. Clair was desperate.

" Yes — go if you will !" he ejaculated. " By
heaven ! not a door shall be closed against you !
But I warn you, Ellen, that if you treat me thus
I will have a signal revenge. Have I not just
told you that I would sacrifice my very soul for
your sake — that I would abandon all my hopes of
hereafter for the bliss of the present in making
you mine own ? And think yo'u therefore that
such a love as this will stand upon mere nice
scruples ? Oh, my love is madness — it is frenzy !
— and this hour which is passing is to decide
whether it is to prove for my soul a pandemonium
or a paradise ! Go :f you will : but my love shall
turn to hatred ; and bitter shall be the vengeance
it will wreak ! Go, Ellen— refuse to become my
bride— and ere the sunset of this day all the town
shall know that Ellen Percy came to Colonel Bel-
lew's house at a time when he was entertaining
two females whose very touch is pollution !"

" O God, to what have I exposed myself !" and
I wrung my hands in despair.

" Think you not, Ellen," continued my tor-
mentor, " that it rends also my heart with agony
to behold you thus afflicted ? But what compas-
sion have you upon me ? None ! none ! If you
are selfish in your indifference, how much more

•elfish must not I be in my love ! Oh, and I am
•tilfitiU— and by heaven, I will compel you to be-
•umit my bride ! Through the fear of rery shame
wll I force you to the altar! — through the dread
(A a ruined reputation will I drag forth an assent
from your lips !"

" Captain St. Clair," I said, now recovering
Homewhat of my hitherto lost presence of mind,
• is this the language of one who the other day
displayed so noble a chivalry and who perilled his
life in my behalf ?— Ah !"

This ejaculation was wrung from my lips by the
circumstance of suddenly perceiving that St. Clair
no longer wore a sling; whereas on the night of
the ball, the day but one previous, he had still
worn it, and appeared to be still suffering deeply.
He was now gesticulating with that arm as well
as with the other ; and I was smitten with asto>
nishment at the fact.

" I see that you are surprised— and I compre-
hend wherefore," he said : and tben he added has-
tily, " But my arm is now well— the wound has
healed. Let that matter pass ! It is of the pre-
sent we have to speak. If I were an obscure, an
humble, and a fortuneless individual — having to
battle my way with the world— you might hesitate
to accept me. But I possess a brilliant position ;
and I offer to make you the sharer of it, I have
wealth:— it is your's. I shall create for myself a
proud and lofty name : — its reflection will shine
upon you. To descend to the meanest vanity— a
vanity which I however despise — I may affirm that
my personal appearance is not disagreeable. As
for my intelligence— Oh! if you only knew with
what contempt and scorn I look around me upon
the average intellect of the world, you would admit
that there must be some consciousness of superior
power on my part ! Tell me therefore, Ellen
Percy, am I unworthy of you ?"

I could not help listening to this long speech,
as well as to the preceding ones. It was a tor-
rent of eloquence which overwhelmed me, — elo-
quence so impassioned, so vivid, so irresistible,
that it enthralled the senses. It had no fascina-
tion of pleasure— but that of its own grand and
terrific power. Thus was it painful as the effect
of a frightful thunder-storm. The strongest feel-
ings were embodying themselves in the strongest
lano'uage. It was something impossible to cut
short by precipitate flight. I felt as if the ocean
itself were rolling in around me — fraught with
danger— full of menace— but grand, sublime, and
terribly awe-inspiring ; so that the feet were
riveted to the spot and there was no help but to
wait involuntarily to be overwhelmed.

" Now you understand me, Ellen," continued St,
Clair after only a few instants' pause, during which
he was enabled to comprehend and measure the
effect his words hA=\ produced. "Mine you shall
be ! — and though _ 'ifin you by coercion, yet wiU I
surround you with affections such as man never
before bestowed upon woman. And, Oh ! you
know not how much it is that I am now promising :
you cannot estimate the full meaning of my words !
Though no title decorates my name, yet no king
upon his throne possesses a prouder spirit than
Edwin St. Clair! Yes— and this hauteur of mine
— not a mere vulgar pride, but the loftiest sublima-
tion of which the sentiment is susceptible — all
•hall be bowed— *« bowed — at your feet ! Now,

Ellen, I have said more to you than to any living
being did I ever breathe before. But a few wcjks
back, if any one had told me — me so coldly cynical
in my ideas of the world — me so utterly despising
everything that is called sentiment — me who was
the veriest infidel in respect to the deity of love,
and the estremest sceptic on the score of his wor-
ship,— if any one had told me that the day would
ever come when I was to address a woman in this
strain, I should have deemed the prophecy an in-
sult, and should have resented it as such. But that
day has come — it is now present — and I, the infidel,
am grown the most infatuated believer in the divine
worship of love !"

If in one sense St. Clair's eloquence was a tor-
rent to overwhelm, in another sense it was a subtle
web wherewith to enmesh all the senses. My brain
was bewildered— my head was losing itself in the
confusion of my ideas ; and I had a vague numb-
ing sense of terror lest by obstinacy or refusal on
my own part I should draw down some terrific ven-
geance on my head. My powers of speech were
paralyzed : I was under the influence of a spell
which I could not possibly shake off. But, Oh!
rest assured, reader, it was not the spell of love !

"Now, Ellen, your decision?" resumed St.
Clair : " for I can endure this suspense no longer.
Oh ! need I say more ? Be my bride, dearest —
and you shall become the idol of my worship !
The proudest heart in Christendom, though beat-
ing in the breast of a civilian, shall be humbled
in devotion unto you ! I will not insult your in-
telligence, nor imply a miserable feminine vanity
on your part, by expatiating on the splendours, the
luxuries, and the elegances of life with'* which I
shall surround you : but this I may say — that all
the happiness which wealth can give shall be en-
joyed by you! And if you love me not now, let
this be no scruple in your way : for as the perfume
of one flower blends with that of another, so shall
the feelings of our hearts speedily mingle in warm
transfusion. Love begets love; and when inchoate
in one heart, it fertilises the soil in which the feel-
ings are germinating in another. Oh, you will
learn to love me, Ellen "

" Never !" I exclaimed, an extraordinary im-
pulse being given to my soul as I became
thoroughly myself again ; for goaded to very
desperation, I beheld the necessity of bursting by
one bold effort the bonds which terrorism, in-
timidation, and the power of eloquence had for a
period riveted around me.

" Never P" repeated St, Clair, staggering be-
neath \his sudden rebuff at an instant when he
had evidently thought his triumph was assured.

" No, never 1" I ejaculated. " And, oh ! Cap-
tain St. Clair, can you not be chivalrous— can you
not be magnanimous ? TVill you not promise to
forbear from taking any advantage of a power
which my visit hither may seem to have given you
over me ?"

" You appeal for mercy to me, Ellen," cried St.
Clair bitterly, — "you who will show me not the
slightest particle ! Oh, this is intolerable ! it is
more than enough to ma1>:e even such a love as
mine turn into hatred !" — and never shall I forget
how immense was the concentrated wickedness
that became expressed in his look at that moment.

" For God's sake spare me 1" I said, appealing
unto him in very agony, " I cannot become your

ELLEN FEECT; OB, THE HEMOIBS OF AS AOTBESB.

wife, because I love you not ! Oh ! my reputation
ia the only fortune I possess. Take it not away
from me ! ruin not my good name ! It would be
an act that sooner or later you must bitterly, bit-
terly repent !" ,

" Ellen, I am merciless !" responded St. Clair,
who was fearfully excited : for bis lips were ashy
white, and his whole frame was trembling ner-
vously. "Swear to become my bride.?"

" Never !" I gasped. " Any sacrifice sooner !"

" Then that sacrifice shall you make !" he ex-
claimed: and Oh! it was with such vindictive
fierceness that he spoke, I even trembled for my
life. "Go, Ellen— with the taint of dishonour
upon your name— the blight of degradation upon
your repute ! Go — and your exit is to be made
from a house belonging to the veriest debauchee
whose notorious profligacies ever made a private
dwelling more infamous than the lowest den of
crime ! Go forth, I say — dishonoured, though in-
nocent — polluted, though stainless ! Even on the
virgin rosebud rests the slime of the snail ; and
80 it shall be now with the freshness of thy virgin
name !"

" Oh ! you are a fiend !" I ejaculated, clasping
my bands in the anguish of despair.

"A fiend? Yes— to you!" he cried: and as
his eyes appeared to shoot forth fire, while his
ashy lips were quivering over his set teeth, he
advanced towards me, exclaiming, " By heaven, I
have a mind to render you the victim of that
very dishonour which my tongue shall proclaim
against you !"

" Wretch !" I cried : and I was on the very
point of sending a shriek pealing forth from my
lips, when a sudden idea struck me.

An idea P Oh, it was a recollection ! Strangely
absorbing must hitherto have been the whole
scene, in its effects of blending terror and elo-
quence, enthralling language and frightful menace
— language of love and language of hate— Oh !
absorbing must it have been that this recollection
did not strike me before. Yet so it was. It was
only now in this which appeared to be the moment
of my utter emergency, that the remembrance
flashed in unto my brain !

My eyes fell upon a vase of flowers standing in
the centre of a superb table; and as St. Clair came
advancing toward me, with looks that too well
indicated his readiness for any villany, I snatched
forth a large and beautiful white rose — and ex-
tending it towards him, exclaimed, " Do you recog-
nise the symbol ?"

Oh ! bad some unseen lightning suddenly
pierced through roof and ceiling, or window, or
wall, to smite him with its withering influence P —
had a spectre from the dead, invisible to my eyes,
suddenly sprung up through earth and floor to
scare him with its hideous presence P Never,
never shall I forget the terrible, the appalling, the
stupendous efi'ect which that flower and those
words produced upon Edwin St. Clair ! White
as a sheet became his countenance : rigid in their
strong expression of agony grew his features;
and all the suddenly excited emotions of his soul
congealed into horror's most terriCc impress upon
his face. He staggered back, and sank like one
annihilated upon a chair.

Like Aladdin in the Eastern Tale, I was at
fii-et horrified and astounded at the efl'ect produced

by the talisman placed in my hands : but my feel-
ings quickly experienced a revulsion, turning them
into a consummate joy at this proof that my enemy
was in every way defeated and that I myself was
in every sense victorious.

I issued from the room : methoughfc I heard
Edwin St. Clair gasp forth my name, as if to bid
me stay : but if it were so, his appeal passed un-
heeded. No one was on the landing : my ears
caught the sounds of the giggling laughter of the
girls in the back room : I hurried down the stair-
case, and emerged from the house.

Entering the hackney-coach, I ordered the
driver to take me back to the street where Me-
lissa dwelt; and during the route thither it may
be easily supposed that I reflected on all that had
occurred at the house which I had just left Po-
tent indeed had proved the effect of the talisman
with which Lady Lilla Essendine had provided
me : but of its meaning I remained utterly
ignorant. Whatsoever the flower symbolised, was
still a perfect mystery to me. I had however no
fear that St. Clair would carry into operation his
horrible threats: there was no doubt as to the
fact that I had by some unknown means reduced
him to the most abject position of horror and
mental wretchedness. And as I thus reflected,
how grateful — how deeply, deeply grateful did I
feel towards Lady Lilla Essendine !

But now I began to ask myself what course I
should pursue in reference to Melissa Harrison ?
She had evidently nothing to hope for either her-
self or her babe at the hands of the unprincipled
Colonel Bellew. This communication must at
least be made to her : but still I did not choose
to enhance her affliction by giving her any addi-
tional proofs of the villany and profligacy of that
man ; there was no necessity to make her ac-
quainted with my previous knowledge of him, nor
to describe the manner in which I had found him
passing his forenoon. I therefore made up my
mind to deal as succinctly with the afi'air as pos-
sible. That she knew him under a feigned name,
was evident enough: for if she had been acquainted
with his real one, she would no doubt have men-
tioned it to me.

In the midst of my meditations, there were two
circumstances which claimed a portion of my
attention. In the first place, the house which I
had just visited was not the same to which I had
been conveyed on the evening of the dinner at Mr.
Parks's ; and therefore methought that Colonel
Bellew must have two distinct establishments, so
that he might all the more conveniently and exten-
sively carry on his profligate career. The other
circumstance to which I have alluded, was the re-
newed intimacy evidently subsisting between Cap-
tain St. Clair and the profligate Colonel. I must
confess that I began to have suspicions as to
whether that intimacy had ever been interrupted,
and whether everything I had heard in respect to
the duel were a reality or not. On these points,
however, I need not now dwell. Suffice it to add
that in respect to Captain St. Clair, 1 had seen him
with his mask thrown off— I had beheld him in
the true fiendishness of his character — I had been
compelled to shudder at the revelation of a monster
of wickedness hitherto concealed beneath one of
the most perfect human shapes. Ah ! no longer
did I doubt that all I had learnt from the lips of

EttES' PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIBS 05 AH ACTEE8S.

Lady Lilla Essendine ia respect to St. Clair's cha-
racter was only too true 5 and therefore in propor-
tion as he had sunk down to the lowest abyss in
my estimation, did her ladyship ascend to the
highest pinnacle of my good opinion.

After 80 terribly exciting a scene, it was no
wonder that I looked pale and ill on arriving at
Melissa's lodgings. The unfortunate young woman,
■who had been awaiting my return with the most
anxious suspense, was at once smitten with the
conviction of the failure of my errand as I returned
into her presence.

" God help me !" she murmured, clasping her
hands. '• I comprehend it all, Ellen !— your looks
proclaim the truth ! You have accomplished no
good ?"

"Melissa," I answered, seating myself by the
bedside, " deeply, deeply do I regret that I am un-
able to afford you any hope in that quarter — no,
not even the slightest ! Ask me not to give you
particulars : it were of no avail to recapitulate
what has just passed."

" No, dear Ellen," murmured Melissa, her voice
almost choked with her profound sobs ; " I will not
ask you to recapitulate that which must have been
at least painful— and perhaps insulting to yourself.
Oh ! never, never shall I forget this kindness which
you have shown me ! But my Grod ! my poor
child "

" Listen, dear Melissa," I said, with difficulty
keeping back my tears. " I shall shortly go upon
the stage ; and I know not why — but believe me,
it is not mere idle vanity when I declare that
something tells me that I shall succeed "

"Oh, it is natural," exclaimed Melissa, "that
you should entertain this conviction. How can
conscious genius do otherwise than predicate of
its own success ? And you will be successful, my
Bweet friend! — I am convinced of it! Did I not
behold you give your first recitation in the pre-
sence of Mr. Richards ? — have I not since heard
you frequently, when practising under the tutelage
of Mr. and Mrs. Norman "

" And if I be successful, Melissa," I interrupted
her, my cheeks now crimson with the praises
she was bestowing upon me — or rather which her
language inferred, " it will be a source of still
greater happiness for me, inasmuch as I shall be
enabled to succour those in whom I feel interested
and whom I love. Now, do you not understand
me, Melissa ?— and will you not believe me when
I promise "

" Ah, Ellen, I know what you mean !" exclaimed
Miss Harrison, throwing her arms around mg
neck: "you are an angel— and success must be
jour's r*

CHAPTEB, XH.

THE DEBUT.

The day— the memorable day— arrived, on which
I was to make my first appearance upon a stage
before the public. Thanks to the kind and zealous
instructions of Mr. and Mrs. Norman, I had been
well schooled in the elementary details of the pro-
fession in which I was about to embark ; and
having again given a specimen of my acquire-

ments in the presence of Mr Richards, I re ceivo
from that gentleman the promise of an engage-
ment, provided my debut should prove successful.
My utterance and deportment were admired ; and
though I had not as yet altogether conquered that
shyness and reserve which were the natural conse-
quences of the seclusion in which all the earlier
part of my life had been spent, — yet did I feel
sufficient confidence in my own courage to pass
through the ordeal. Indeed, I had every incen-
tive, I longed to eat the bread of independence :
I longed to justify the predictions of the excellent
family to whom I was so deeply indebted : I longed
to win a fame that should render my aunt and
my cousin proud of me : I longed to have the
command of money, that I might quietly and un-
ostentatiously succour such cases as that of Me-
lissa Harrison ; and lastly, diffident and retiring
as I was in all other respects, I had a certain little
ambition of my own — an ambition to shine in a
particular sphere. Thus was it that when the
memorable day dawned, I hailed it rather with a
calm confidence than with any inward misgiving.
At the same time, be it understood, I was not
vain-glorious, presumptuous, nor conceited : I had
a certain consciousness of ability in that which I
had undertaken ; and I felt persuaded that if my
success should not prove very brilliant, my failure
on the other hand would not be very signal.

I had practised several characters under the
tuition of the Normans: — that of Portia in the
" Merchant of Venice" — that of Lady Ana in
"Richard the Third" — that of the heroine in
" Romeo and Juliet " — that of Queen Catherine in
" Henry the Eighth "—that of Isabella in " Mea-
sure for Measure " — that of Zara in Congreve's
" Mourning Bride " — and several others : but after
a long discussion, it had been determined that the
character of Portia should be the one in which I was
to appear. I did not choose to come forth under my
own name. I had hitherto managed most success-
fully to conceal my pursuits from the knowledge
of my aunt and cousin : if I were to fail they need
never know that I had attempted a theatrical
career ; and if I were to succeed, I resolved that
the truth should only be communicated to them
when my fame was established. Thus it was
under a pseudonym that I was to present myself
to the public; and the play -bills announced the
first appearance of Miss Trafford.

It was in the middle of the month of May, 1840
— when I was within a couple of months of the
attainment of my eighteenth year — that this
memorable event in my life took place. The
theatre was crowded to excess : for the aristocratic
visitors at the Normans' house had made it their
business to spread the most favourable predictions
relative to myself as the protegee of those worthy
people. As a matter of course, my real name
was known to a limited circle : but at the earnest
entreaty of the Normans so much discretion had
been observed that this knowledge was not more
widely propagated, Mr. Norman was to appear
in the same piece : he was to personate the Duke
of Venice : but Mrs. Norman was not included ia
the cast of characters. She therefore, together
with Juliet, remained with me in my dressing-
room, to encourage me before I went upon the
stage — to receive and welcome me during tha
intervals of my perfomancej and nothing could

ELLEN PBECT; OE, THE ilEMOIES OB AN ACXEE8S.

excee'l tho kindness I experienced at the hands of
tb/jse excellent friends.

As the moment approached when, at the com-
mencement of the second scene, I was to emerge
into the full glare of light and become the focus
for nearly three thousand pair of ejes, I felt my
heart sink within me : my confidence was rapidly
evaporating. But exercising as it were all the
moral energy which I possessed— nerving myself
with all the courage I could muster up — I entered
upon the grand ordeal. I remember that I tot-
tered rather than walked upon the stage: and
then, as rapturous shouts pealed forth my welcome,
and white kerchiefs were waved by fair hands
from the boxes, such a dizziness seized upon me
that I wonder I did not fall. I was blinded by
the glare of light: I could not distinguish the
audience individually: I had a confused idea that
the whole space upon which I looked was paved
with human faces. The thought struck me that
So. 8.— EUiBV FSBOZ.

my failure was already doomed, and that I should
not be enabled to give utterance to a single word.
My part seemed to be as completely forgotten as if
my memory had never taken cognizance of it at alL
At length all was silence ; and I had to com-
mence. The prompter from his place gave me the
key — " By my troth, Nerissa :" — and like a
lightning-flash my part came back to my memory.
I remember that I ejaculated within myself,
"Now I am safe!" — and I began speaking. Still
it was in the midst of a species of confusion—
with a continued dizziness of the brain, and with
an oppressive sense of having as a pigmy under-
taken the task of a giantess — that I went on.
Although I felt that I was safe so far as my
memory was concerned, I experienced no satisfac-
tion at the manner I was enacting my part. There
was in my brain a continuous sense of sins of
commission and sins of omission, — doing some-
thing against whioh the ITormaat in their lenooa

EiiEur peect; oe, the memoies oe aw acteess.

had warned me, and forgetting other things which
I had been entreated to bear in mind. Thus,
when the scene was ended, and loud applause
followed me as I went off, I attributed it merely
to the kindness of the audience; and I expected
to behold sadness depicted on the countenances of
the Normans, who were at the " wings" to receive
me. I hurried to my dressing-room ; and sinking
upon a seat, was ready to weep with vexation at
what I believed to be the folly— the madness, which
had urged me on to the catastrophe of such a
failure!

"You will bo more collected presently, my dear
girl," said Mrs. Norman, bending down and kissing
my forehead.

" Now that the first step is taken," said
Juliet, in her most gentle tone, " you will be less
diffident in the next scene."

I said nothing : but I thanked my frieuds with
my looks. I thought to myself that they were
fully aware it was a failure on my part, and they
wished to spare my feelings as much as possible.
Again I went upon the stage ; and now I became
painfully conscious how tremulous were my tones
and how diffident was my demeanour. Ae the
piec-e progressed, however, I grew more collected :
I overcame much of that Weakness and tremulous-
ness of utterance that I was previously unable to
couquer; and at the conclusion of the ninth Scene
of the second Act — after the interview with the
Prince of Arragon— Mrs. Norman and Juliet
assured me that I had acquitted myself quite as
Tvell as could be expected.

The Trial Scene was toon at hand ; and for this
I was apparelled in the usual advocate's garb.
Juliet whispered the most flattering compliments
in my ears; Mrs. Norman besought me to re-
member the various suggestions she had given me
relative to the great speech which I should have
to address to Shylock. As I thought of the com-
mencement of that speech— "The quality of mercy
is not strained " — I experienced a suddea thrill
which as yet I had not known— a glow of the
heart as if I were at length to identify myself
with the true spirit and feeling of the part which
I had to perform. A sensation of unspeakable
happiness diffused itself throughout my frame;
and when the instant arrived for me to pass upon
the stage, I no longer felt timid. On commenc-
ing that great speech, my voice acquired a sudden
strength — I forgot the audience — 1 was undaazled
by the blaze of light— I beheld only the tribunal
—I fancied myself to be Portia ! Tet I was
aware of the profound silence which filled the vast
theatre, all save in respect to my own voice ; and
there was a thrill of pride in my soul at the con-
viction that this breathless attention was for the
language that was flowing from my lips. The
scene progressed ; my spirits rose with it : some-
thing within me seemed to say that I was now
indeed in the right vein ; and on my exit the vast
building rang with applause.

" My dear Ellen, you have triumphed !" ex-
claimed Mrs. Norman, folding me in her arms
the instsnt I had gained my dressing-room.

" I knew it all along," said Juliet : " I saw it
from the very first. Your opening scene was ad-
mirable "

*0h, this is flattery, my dear friend !" I said :
*• for nothing could have been worse !"

" Good heavens !" cried Juliet, " how you mis-
understand yourself ! You were true to nature !
Mr. Richards himself said so."

" Then nature's self assisted me," I murmured
in astonishment, and indeed with more or less in-
credulity— for methought that my failure had at
first been complete.

Mrs. Norman and her daughter continued to
assure me again and again that all my misgivings
were unfounded, and that I had surpassed their
expectations. I said but little. In my own
mind I fancied that they were greatly exaggerat-
ing, but for the kindest of purposes, whatsoever
little merit I had displayed ; and I still thought
that, except in the Trial Scene, my debut was
more than half a failure.

Tae piece progressed; and when it concluded
there was one general and rapturous call for
"Miss Trafford !" Mr. Richards led me on :
bouquets were showered upon me ; and the plaudits
were deafening. I was overwhelmed with a sense
of shame, rather than with pride and gratifica-
tion ; because I conscientiously felt that I did not
deserve all this. On regaining my dressing-room
I fainted in the arms of Mrs. Norman.

As I slowly came back to consciousness, I heard
a voice whispering, " It was admirable for a first
appearance : but believe me, it is nothing to what
she is capable of!"

" Hush ! she is recovering !"

The first speaker was the actress who had per-
formed the part of Jessica — a very clever, shrewd,
and intelligent young lady : the other, who had
bidden her be silent, was the actress who had
played Nerissa. On being completely restored to
consciousnesss, I received the congratulations of
these ladies ; and when I had resumed my own
apparel, I hastened with Mrs. Norman to the car-
riage— for I was anxious to get home. Mr.
Bichards however intercepted me on the way, to
address me in a similar strain ; and thus I began
to think that I had perhaps after all acquitted
myself better than my own diffidence and appre-
hensions had allowed me to imagine. Thoroughly
exhausted, I sought my couch and slept soundly.

I was awakened in the morning by the entrance
of Juliet, who came into my room, her counte-
nance beaming with animation, and with several
newspapers in her hand.

"Now perhaps you will believe us, my dear
Ellen !" she said, — " which I saw that you would
not do last night. Read— read for yourself !"

" Do they — do they indeed speak well of me ?"
I falteringly asked, with feelings of mingled sus-
pense and joy.

" Nay, read, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet ; " and if
you have at times blamed me for any little com-
pliments which in the truthful spirit of friendship
I have bestowed upon you, you will now blush for
the next hour to come. There ! I will leave the
papers with you."

The good-hearted Juliet flung the journals upon
the bed with looks as full of exultation as if the
favourable notices they contained had regarded
herself; and she then hurried from the room. It
was in one sense with avidity, but in another
with trembling hands and fluttering heart, that I
caught up the newspapers, and commenced hastily
scanning the critiques upon my performance. They
all spoke highly of me, declaring that my success

ELLEN PEECY ; OE, THE MEMOIES Of AN ACTEES9.

was complete, and to my astonishment mistaking
the verj diffidence and shyness which in certain
parts I had displayed, as a deliberate and purposed
adherence to the truthfulness of nature. The re-
vievrers were unanimous in the opinion that I had
made the part my own — that I had discarded the
mannerisms of precedents— and that I had formed
an appreciation of Portia's feelings and demeanour
different in several instances from that entertained
by other actresses. Although I was alone in that
chamber, yet did I feel my cheeks glowing as I
read such sentences as these : — " To a most ravish-
ing personal beauty Miss Traflford joins an elegant
deportment and most ladylike manners." — " No-
thing can excel the loveliness of this new candi-
date for dramatic fame : her face and figure are
perfect ; her voice, rich-toned and melodious, is
capable of considerable power, and has all the in-
flections of the most graceful eloquence." — " The
debdt of Miss Trafford is quite an event in the
dramatic world; and all who beheld her last night,
must admit that a star has at length revealed
itself in that sphere where for a long time such
brilliant luminaries have been singularly deficient."
— " This young lady has all the advantages of great
personal beauty, a voice of surpassing melody, and
high mental accomplishments. Her success last
night, if not actually brilliant, was at least positive
and unquestionable ; and we predict that she is
destined to acquire the highest fame in the profes-
sion which she has chosen."

The reader must not imagine that I have been
impelled by vanity to place these quotations on
record : my purpose in thus transferring them to
this page, is simply to show how little I under-
stood the eflfect of my own performance on the
preceding night. And it would be a miserable
affectation to deny that I was flattered — I was
gratified — I was even rendered exultant by the
critical opinions which I thus perused. Need I
add that they confirmed me in the resolve to adopt
the stage as a profession ? — or need I inform the
reader that fervid was the gratitude I expressed
to Mr. and Mrs. Norman for the zeal with which
they had instructed me in the dramatic art P

I may now pause to observe that I bad not
once seen Edwin St. Clair during the ten days
which had elapsed since the memorable occurrence
at Colonel Bellew's house. That occurrence I had
not mentioned to a soul : I considered it to be
something which ought to be kept secret in obe-
dience to the injunctions given me by Lady Lilla
Essendine, when at Mr. Parks's house she made
me aware of the talisman which would serve me
in any emergency in which St. Clair's conduct
might chance to place me. As for Melissa Har-
rison, she continued chained by sickness to her
couch. I had regularly visited her every day —
frequently accompanied by Juliet ; and on repair-
ing to her lodgings on this day which succeeded
the evening of my debut, I received from the un-
fortunate invalid the most fervid congratulations
for my success.

A week passed — during which I performed three
times : namely, on alternate nights. My first ap-
pearance was, as the reader is aware, as Portia : on
the second occasion I enacted the same character :
but on the third I personated the heroine in
" Bomeo and Juliet." My success was complete^
Crowded houses — rapturous applause — couutlesg

bouquets— the congratulations of my friends— the
most courteous deference on the part of Mr.
Richards — and complimentary reviews in the pub-
lic journals, — these were the evidences of my
triumphs ; and I could no longer doubt that I had
underrated my own merits on the first night of
my appearance. Oh ! the threshold of Fame's
temple was crossed ! —the ivory portals had ex-
panded to admit me into that fane ! It seemed
as if all the wildest hopes to which I had ever
abandoned myself, were to be realized, and that I
was veritably to become a great actress ! But not
yet — no, not yet would I communicate the intelli-
gence to my aunt and cousin. Still would I per-
mit them to repose in the belief that I continued
a humble sojourner with kind friends, utilising
my little accomplishments to an extent sufficient
to avoid being a burden to them — but nothing
beyond. It should only be when my fame was
fully established — when there could be no doubt
as to the general appreciation of my genius—
when, by a continuous series of trials, I should
have proved that this was no evanesc ^nt flashing
of a spirit, but a lasting and durable lustre— Oh !
it should not be until all this was done, that I
would reveal my secret to those whom I knew to
be so deeply interested in my welfare. Such was
my resolve.

And here I may mention how sweet — Oh ! how
sweet it was to receive at the end of the week
the first remuneration which my talents had ever
earned. With what a mingled glow of pride and
satisfaction did I contemplate the gold which was
placed in my hand! — and with what fervid feelings
of gratitude did I endeavour to force that sum
upon Mrs. Norman T But she absolutely refused
to receive it ; and it was only when I positively
assured her that I could not continue to eat the
bread of her unrecompensed bounty that the kind-
hearted creature consented to accept a part.

For the next two or three weeks I played with
continued success ; and then there was to be a
month's suspension of the performances, for the
purpose of decorating and repairing the theatre
and making arrangements for a new theatrical
campaign. It was now the end of June ; and Mr.
Norman proposed that we should pass the month's
holiday at a watering-place. But a circumstance
occurred to separate me temporarily from my
friends, and afford me a different change of scene
from that which they enjoyed.

One afternoon a handsome carriage drove up to
the door of the Normans' house in Hunter Street ;
and Lady Lilla Essendine sent up her card, with
an intimation that she had come to call upon me.
She was at once shown up into the drawing-room
— whither I hastened to join her ; and we were
there alone together.

" In the first place, my dear Ellen," she said,
treating me with as much familiarity and kindness
as if we were old fiiends, — "in the first place I
must offer my congratulations upon the triumph
you have achieved ; and in the second place I
must beg you to give me the favour of your society
at my little suburban residence, during the month
which, as I see by the newspapers, you are now to
have at your own disposal."

Be it recollected, reader, that Lady Lilla had
risen as high in my estimation as St. Clair had
sunk low down j and therefore I was charmed and

fiO

EliEN PEHCT; OE, THE JIEM0IE8 OF AW ACTKE3S.

flattered by her visit, as well as astonished at what
appeared to me her graceful condescension in seek-
ing the society of an actress. Besides, there was
a sweat amiability in her manner — such an un-
affected cordiality, as it seemed to me — that I was
quite disposed to accept the friendship of Lady
LiUa Essendine. Nevertheless, there was one cause
for hesitation ; and this I failed not to express when
I had pro£fered suitable acknowledgments for her
kindness towards me.

" I have not forgotten, my lady," I said, as I
felt a slight colour rising to my cheeks, " that I
have adopted a career on which some portion of
society is wont to look superciliouslv, if not scorn-
fully "

" Hush, Ellen !" interposed her ladyship, placing
her finger upon my lip : "such language as this
must not flow from your tongue. Every one who
speaks of the talents of Miss Trafford," she con-
tinued, with a playfully arch smile as she thus
mentioned my pseudonym, " fails not to eulogize
her exemplary character also. It is soon known in
the theatrical world whether a fair candidate for
fame be right-principled or otherwise ; and the re-
port spreads accordingly throughout society. You
hare nothing to be ashamed of : and rest assured
that the highest in the land will not hesitate to
caress and court you. Have we not all read how
Mrs. Siddons, the instant she grew renowned, be-
came the favourite of the aristocracy — and how at
the comparatively humble lodging which, through
economical motives for her children's sake, she
occupied in some street leading out of the Stra/id,
carriages with coronets upon their panels ca'.led
daily, and titled ladies as well as men of the lof ;iest
rank left their cards in compliment to the actrees?"

I felt pleased at the manner in which Lady Lilla
Essendine thus addressed me, and at the delicacy
of the language in which she urged me to accept
her invitation.

" You must not fancy," she continued, " that I
keep much society. You will meet but very few
visitors at my house ; and my only fear is that you
may possibly find the time hang heavily upon your
hands. Besides, I am not rich : my mode of living
is comparatively humble ; and my life has not been
Buch a happy one as to leave the first gaiety of
youth unimpaired and render me enamoured of
the bustle and brilliancy of the fashionable world."

Lady Lilla Essendine said so many kind things,
that I could not possibly refuse her invitation : but
still I would not give her an immediate response
without consulting Mr. and Mrs, Norman, towards
whom I experienced a species of filial affection —
nor without speaking to Juliet, whom I loved as
well as if she were a sister. Lady Lilla bade me
hasten to them at once : and I accordingly pro-
ceeded to the parlour where they were seated. I
explained the object of her ladyship's visit ; and
they bade me by all means cultivate an acquaint-
ance which might possibly be useful to me. There
was however one thing which struck me as some-
what peculiar, and which even for a moment pained
me. It was that her ladyship had not asked to be
introduced to the Normans ; and though they said
nothing upon the subject, they had the good taste
^and perhaps the pride also — not to repair to the
drawing-room where she was awaiting my return.

My preparations for departure were speedily
made; but before I left, I wrote a note to Melissa

Harrison, explaining the reason wherefore I should
not be enabled to visit her as regularly as hereto-
fore, and enclosing a sum of money. I besought
her in most delicate terms to make use of it, and
accept it as if from the hands of a sister. My
trunk was then conveyed down to Lady Lilla'a
carriage : I took an afi'ectionate leave of the Nor-
mans— and thus departed with her ladyship.

"You may possibly think it strange, my dear
Ellen," she said as the equipage bore us along
through the streets of London, " that I did not
request you to present me to your friends: but
though all circumstances combine to render m»
desirous of having j/our society, it would not be
exactly suitable for one in my position to form an
extensive acquaintance in a particular sphere.
And now tell me— has anything particular occurred
since first we met at the house of our mutual
friends the Parkses ?"

I reflected for a few moments; and I thought
that inasmuch as it was Lady Lilla herself who
had furnished me the means of meeting any
emergency in which the conduct of Edwin St.
Clair might happen to place me, there was no
necessity for maintaining any reserve towards her
— but on the other hand, that she had a sort of
right to be made acquainted with everything that
had happened. Being once disposed to give her
my confidence, I did not choose to do it by halves ;
and I therefore explained first of all how St. Clair
had offered me his hand, and how I had refused
him — how I had been carried off in the hackney-
coach on the night of Mr. Parks's dinner-party—
and how St. Clair had rescued me from the power
of Colonel Bellew. But I did not mention a syl-
lable in respect to the strange fragment of a letter
which I had found in the drawer of the toilet-
table on that memorable occasion : for I was afraid
lest it might be thought that I was of an unseem-
ingly curious and prying disposition. I went on
to explain how St. Clair had fought a duel on my
behalf: and then I came to the narrative of Me-
lissa Harrison's illness (suppressing her name
however)— the mission I had undertaken for her —
and everything which had occurred at Colonel
Bellew's house, — especially the closing scene in
which the presentation of a flower had produced
such an awfully talismanic effect on Captain
St. Clair.

Her ladyship listened to me with an attention
which was alike eager and deep : she spoke not a
syllable throughout the narration of my tale : but
her countenance, by its varying expression, showed
that there were feelings in her own bosom which
were profoundly stirred.

" I am glad that you have told me all this !"
she said, when I had finished. " Did I not assure
you that Edwin St. Clair was not the man to
leave you unmolested ? But I can throw consi-
derable light upon some portions of your narra-
live, into the full meaning of which you have not
as yet penetrated. Ellen," she added, fixing her
blue eyes significantly upon me, " you were the
dupe of one of the basest stratagems of which
St. Clair, with all his refined instinct for mischief,
was capable ! But you shall see."

Her ladyship pulled the check-string; and the
carriage stopped. The footman descended, and
came to the window for orders. Lady Lilla de-
sired that the carriage might be driven along a

particular thoroughfare ; and I now observed that
we were in the neighbourhood of the Eegent's
Park. The equipage pursued its way ; and Lilla
said to me, " Now keep watch, Ellen ! I am
about to point out to jou a particular house "
"But perhaps I shall not recognise it ?" I ex-
claimed, as the thought immediatelj struck me
that she was alluding to the scene of that outrage
which I had experienced on the night of the
dinner at Mr. Parks's.

" Look well ! — we are approaching it !" she sud-
denly cried. " Surely you can recollect "

"Yes, yes — I do!" I ejaculated, as she pointed
out a particular villa-residencfl which the equipage
was just approaching. " It is the same !"

" And that house," continued Lady Lilla Es-
scndine, again fixing her large and beautiful blue
eyes significantly upon me, — " that house belongs
not to Colonel Bellew — but it is a suburban retreat
in the possession of Captain St. Clair."

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, suddenly bewil-
dered what to think. " Is this possible ?"

" Oh, my dear Ellen!" exclaimed Lady Lilla,
" if you cannot read the whole truth of that ad-
Tenture, I can read it for you ! Yes — that is St.
Clair's house!— and rest assured that Bellew was
but the instrument of St. Clair'a deep-laid stra-
tagem !"

" But this is monstrous !" I cried, terribly
ahocked. "He had offered me his hand in mar-
riage "

" Yes — no doubt he was infatuated with you ;
and by that stratagem he hoped to win you as his
wife. Do you not now comprehend it ? It was
Bellew who was to have the appearance of carry-
ing you off— and St. Clair was to rescue you. The
duel was equally a sham : it was to win your sym-
pathy. No such hostile encounter ever took
place : nor was St. Clair wounded. Gratitude and
sympathy— these were the debts you owed him :
and he conceived that in such circumstances you
could not fail to accept his hand."

It would be impossible to describe the indigna-
tion which seized upon me as I comprehended
the truth of all that Lady Lilla was saying.
Every circumstance confirmed it. St. Clair had
fallen on bis knees to plead his pission at my feet
immediately after the pretence of rescuing me
from Colonel Bellew : I had subsequently found
him 'a visitor at the Colonel's own house; and on
that very occasion suspicions had been excited in
my mind in respect to the complete truth of the
story of the duel. But now even amidst my very
indignation did my soul experience a sudden
shock, as it struck me that the letter of which I
had read a fragment, was not after all addressed to
Colonel Bellew, but to St. Clair himself ! Good
heavens, in what a frightful shape of wickedness
was the whole character of Edwin St. Clair now
revealed to my view, — and I who had at one time
profferred him my friendship — although I thanked
God that I had been saved the deplorable catas-
trophe of giving him my love !

" And does your ladyship think," I tremulously
inquired, " that Mr. and Mrs. Parks could have
been in any way accessory to Colonel Belief's
stratagem on behalf of Captain St. Clair that
night ?"

Lilla reflected for some moments ; and thee she
said impressively, " No ! — it is impossible '."

There was now a long interval of silence— dur-
ing which I meditated profoundly and painfully,
yet thankfully, on all the incidents of the recent
past upon which so strong a light had just been
shed. Yes— painfully did I meditate, as I thought
of the diabolic stratagems of which I had been-
rendered the object, and of the perils which the
fiendish villany of St. Clair had raised up around
me like a woven mesh : but I was thankful like-
wise at the manner in which I had escaped from
that tangled skein of dangerous intricacies.

" Ah, my dear Lady Lilla," I suddenly ex-
claimed, " how deeply, deeply grateful am I to
you for having afforded me the means of triumph-
ing at last over that wicked and designing man,
and reducing him to abject powerlessuess. But
if it be not indiscreet, tell me in what constituted
the charm which produced such an awful effect ?"

"The effect, then, was very awful?" said Lady
Lilla inquiringly: "and St. Clair was appalled?"

" Never before did I witness such a scene," I
responded, shuddering at the bare recollection
" and heaven grant that I may never again behold
such a spectacle of ghastly horror as that which
Captain St. Clair presented to my view when I
took the flower from the vase !"

Lady Lilla averted her countenance, and looked
for some minutes from the carriage-window.
During that interval there was again a profound
silence; and when she once more turned towards
me, she said, " You must not question me, Ellen,
relative to the meaning of that charm which
wrought such power. Suffice it for you that it
served your purpose on the occasion. But I be-
seech you to keep the seal of secrecy inviolably
upon your lips — as you ere now assured me that
you have hitherto done. I told you the other
night that during the lifetime of my late husband,
St. Clair's uncle, circumstances came to my know-
ledge—-But here we are at my humble resi-
dence !"

CHAPTER XIIL

CLAEEMONT VILLA.

Ladt Lilla Essendinb occupied a beautiful villa
in the neighbourhood of St. John's Wood, Re-
gent's Park. It was not a spacious dwelling—
but it was commodious, and elegantly furnished.
Standing back about thirty yards from the road,
it had a screen of shrubs along the palings in
front, and which shut in a small but well-kept
lawn. It had a garden of tolerable dimensions
attached; and this was closed in the rear by a
small shrubbery. In the summer-time it was a
truly charming retreat ; though I fancied that in
the winter it must be somewhat lonely and dull.
Its situation was completely isolated; and the
nearest habitation— also a charming villa — was
about two hundred yards distant. Three female
and two male servaifts comprised her ladyship's
domestic establishment ; and though not possessed
of afHuence for a lady of her rank and position,
she evidently enjoyed a handsome competency.
Indeed, St. Clair had told me that she had an in-
come of fifteen hundred a year— which seemed to
be true enough, judging of the style in which she

ELIEN PEBCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF Alf ACTEE88.

lived ; although I now looked with suspicion upon
every statement that I had at any time heard
from St. Clair's lips.

Several days passed agreeably enough : for the
villa was conveniently situated for the beautiful
walks and drives in the neighbourhood. Her
ladyship was visited by a few friends, belonging
to the patrician grade ; and by them was I treated
with the utmost kindness and distinction.

One day— when I had been about a week at
Claremont Villa, as the house was called— an in-
cident occurred which troubled me greatly. It
was in the forenoon : I had been rambling alone
in the garden : but the sultry heat of the sun at
length drove me indoors. Lady Lilla was writing
at her desk in the parlour which we habitually
used. Almost immediately after I thus entered
that parlour, she was summoned from the room ;
and I approached the table to take thence a book
which I was in the course of reading. Two or
three notes, which Lady Lilla had written, lay
upon the very book that I required ; and as I re-
moved these billets, I was struck by the writing of
the addresses. It was the first time I had seen
her ladyship's handwriting; and I experienced a
shock more powerful than I can possibly describe :
for it struck me all in a moment that it was the
very same handwriting as that which I had seen
in the fragment of the letter at St. Clair's house.
A dizziness came over my sight, as all the contents
of that fragment rushed back to my recollection.
Good heavens ! was it possible that Lady Lilla
herself could have been the victim who had ad-
dressed the author of her ruin in language so har-
rowing, so horrible, eo anguished, so despairing,
as that vhich I had read in the fragment alluded
to?

Passing my hand across my eyes to dispel the
film which had settled upon them, I looked again
at the superscriptions of these notes. Yes — it
seemed to me the same beautiful handwriting ;
though that of the fragment I remembered to have
been tremulous, and that of these billets was firm
in its feminine delicacy and perfect fluency. I
heard footsteps approaching the door ; and rapidly
retreating to the sofa, I sat down as if I had been
all along occupying it since my entrance into the
parlour. It was however with the utmost difficulty
that I could compose my looks; while, as to my
feelings, they were cruelly harrowed and tortured.
Lady Lilla began to converse with me ; and as I
listened to the soft music of her voice, so calm and
so collected — as I contemplated her countenance,
so surpassingly beautiful— as I thought of her age,
which could not exceed two-and-twenty — I said
within myself, " Is it possible that this being of
transcending loveliness could ever have known
such stupendous anguish— such ineffable remorse
as the fragment of the letter seemed to indicate ?
Could she who has the countenance and shape of
an angel, have ever penned language denoting the
consciousness of crime ?"

It appeared to me as if I were in the midst of
a horrible dream ; and availing myself of a pause in
the conversation, I rose and issued from the room.
Flinging on my large garden-hat, which I had
left upon the hall-table, I went forth again into
the grounds. It seemed as if I must absolutely
court solitude in order to commune with myself :
it seemed likewise as if there were something which

I ought to do, but which I know not rightly how
to accomplish. Should I speak to Lady Lilla
Essendine ? — should I tell her of the circumstance
of having read the fragment at St. Clair's house,
and beseech her, in the name of the friendship she
professed for me, to clear up the horrible mystery
which now appeared to hang round herself? Or
should I devise some pretext for leaving her abode
and rejoining my friends, the Normans ? I was
bewildered how to act. I did not like to address
her ladyship on the subject, for fear lest there
should be some terrible mistake on my part : and
yet, on the other hand, I felt shocked at the notion
of continuing to be the guest and friend of o^.
who, if my suspicion were well founded, had put
upon record such frightful self-accusings.

Utterly unable to make up my mind how to act,
I wandered into the shrubbery. The back gate
stood open ; for a gardener was at work on the
premises : and I issued forth. A lane skirted the
boundary-walk : and along this I slowly proceeded
— my soul a prey to the most painful feelings. Was
it not natural for me to entertain the suspicion
that Lady Lilla Essendine had been rendered the
victim of St. Clair's guile, and that the letter of
which I had seen a fragment was written by her
under the influence of poignant and excruciating
remorse for her infidelity towards the husband who
perhaps doted upon her ? And yet what if I were
after all mistaken? — what if a mere coincidental
resemblance between one handwriting and another
had deceived me ? And amongst ladies of superior
education, was there not often a striking identity
of styles of penmanship ? Oh ! if I were labour-
ing under an error, how cruel and how unpardon-
able an insult would it be to Lady Lilla Essendine
to breathe a syllable which savoured of a suspicion
or an aspersion !

While I was thus reflecting in bewilderment
and uncertainty, a turning in the lane suddenly
brought me into the presence of two singular-
looking women, whom I at once knew to be of the
gipsy race. One was an old crone, with wrinkled
countenance and bowed form — but with dark eyes
that had lost little of their youthful fire, and were
peculiarly keen and piercing. Her look was not
merely cunning, but had something sinister in it,
which was still more repelling when she began
smirking and smiling as she caught sight of me.
Her companion was a much younger woman— in-
deed apparently not more than about four -and-
twenty. She possessed a very fine person, and
though her features were coarse and large, they
were by no means unhandsome. Her feet were
naked; and her lower limbs — a considerable por-
tion of which the short skirt of her dress left ex-
posed— were singularly symmetrical in their ro-
bustness. She was stout and upon a large scale,
but well-proportioned. Methought that she would
have made an admirable model for a sculptor de-
lineating with his marble the feminine form in
Amazonian proportions. Her hair, dark as jet,
and without the slightest gloss upon it, hung upon
her shoulders: her eyes, of deepest blackness, were
large and brilliantly lustrous : her lips, which were
full even to coarseness, but of the brightest cherry
hue, revealed a set of teeth that might be com-
pared to ivory. She was leaning against a tree ;
and her look was bold and full of hardihood,
though by no means insolent as she g'-jized upon me.

BtLBN PBBCT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OE AN ACTEES8.

I had come upon this couple so suddenly, and
was by their presence so abruptly startled from
the meditations in which I was previously plunged,
that I stopped short ; and the old crone at once
accosted me. She began to address me in the
manner usually adopted by people of her race —
complimenting me upon my beauty — talking some
jargon about a handsome lover — and desiring me
to cross her palm with silver that she might tell
me my fortune. Her swarthy countenance was all
puckered up with wrinkles as she smiled and
smirked while giving utterance to her habitual
cant ; and great was the contrast between that
shrivelled sinister face, and the round plump
countenance of the younger gipsy, through the
duskiness of whose complexion the warm blood
mantled richly.

" Stay, pretty lady," said the old crone, " while
I develop the future to your view. 1 see at a
glance that this fair white hand is crossed by many
lines. Suffer me to read them."

I had no gloves on ; for I had left the house
hurriedly, and without any intention of issuing
outside the garden wall. I was in 'a morning
desAahillde too; and as I have already said, had
on a large straw hat. The old gipsy had taken
my hand ; and I scarcely know in what singular
mood it was that I for a few moments abandoned
it to her. But my feelings were at the time ren^
dered morbid by the thoughts that had been
agitating in my brain ; and when the mind is in
this state it is apt to be more or less tinctured with
superstition, or a tendency towards the marvel-
lous. ^

" I see," continued the old gipsy, peering over
my palm, " that there is a tall, handsome youth,
not very much olSe* than yourself — with dark
hair and eyes— slender and graceful shape — and
the most winning manners — whose heart is filled
with your image. Yes !" she proceeded, suddenly
looking up into my countenance : " and upon your
heart, pretty maiden, is his image impressed !"

Here I suddenly withdrew my hand, while I
felt the blushes glowing upon my cheeks. I was
about to hurry onward, when the crone exclaimed,
"You have forgotten to cross my hand with
•ilvet !"

I was excessively annoyed with myself that I
should have yielded even for a few moments to
the influence which had led me to abandon my
hand to the old woman : but I felt that having
done so, I ought to give her a reward. Full of
the confusion occasioned by my own vexed feel-
ings, I thrust my hand into my pocket : my purse
was not there.

" Stop," I said, " and I will hasten and fetch
you something. I have left my money indoors."

" One moment, sweet maiden !" ejaculated the
old crone ; " and if you will render me a little ser-
vice, you need not trouble yourself to confer any
additional recompense upon me."

"Nonsense, grandmother!" said the younger
gipsy, now accosting the crone and catching her
somewhat roughly by the arm. '• How do you
know who this young lady is ?"

"Tell me, my sweet maiden," said the dame,
still addressing herself to me, apparently heedless
of her granddaughter's interruption ; " did I not
ere now behold you walking in the garden at-
tached to this nearest villa P Methought that as

I passed the front gate I caught a glimpse of that
beautiful form of your's "

" Enough of this idle flattery 1" I interrupted
her. "Yes— it is true I was walking in that
garden. But what can you possibly mean by che
intimation that I may render you a service ?"

"You shall see," rejoined the crone; "for you
are an amiable young lady— and you will not, as
insolent menials would, disdain the old gipsy's
supplication."

" Be careful, grandmother !" the younger female
hurriedly whispered: but my ear caught what sho
said.

" Be quiet, Zarah !" interjected the crone, as
she turned impatiently towards her granddaughter.
" I know what I am doing ; and this pretty maiden
will accomplish the trifling little service that I ask
at her hands. Will you not, Miss ?"

" I will fetch you some trifle," I said, anxious
to put an end to this scene in which I had in-
volved myself: " but as for my ability to render
you any real service, it is impossible — and you
can only be indulging in that language of mys-
terious absurdity which forms a portion of your
craft."

" It is not so, sweet maiden," rejoined the gipsy
crone. " There is something in your countenance
so amiable and good-natured, it tells me you will
do my bidding ! And the boon I crave is so
simple ! It is only that you will tell the lady of
the house that one who knows her, seeks a few
minutes' interview on this very spot."

" This is absurd!" I ejaculated. " Her ladyship
would not come to you— neither would I trifle so
insultingly with her as to bear such a message."

"Judge not too hastily, young maiden," an-
swered the gipsy: "did I not ere now speak
words which made a chord vibrate in your heart ?
— and think you not, therefore, that I who know
so many things and so many persons, may have
an interest in obtaining speech of the lovely lady
of that house in which you reside ? I tell you that
the lady will come if you present this to her as a
token of my sincerity in requiring her presence."

Thus speaking, the old gipsy plucked a large
and beautiful blooming white rose which grew
wild amidst the odoriferous briers in the bushes
hard by. I mechanically took the flower from her
hand, — gazing on her the while with the most be-
wildered astonishment. And well might I be thus
surprised ! — well too might that wonderment be
mingled with a sort of dismay ! — for it suddenly
seemed as if the same species of talisman which
had proved so effectual in reducing St. Clair to
abject powerlessness, was now to prove the means
of bringing forth Lady Lilla Essendine in obe-
dience to the summons of this miserable wrinkled
old gipsy.

" Do not ask me any questions, sweet maiden,"
she continued, observing my astonishment, al-
though doubtless very far from suspecting the
cause. " It is no idle mummery on my part ; and
I repeat, it is so simple a boon I crave, that you
cannot in your amiable generosity refuse to grant
it. I might have just now addressed myself to
the old gardener whom I saw at work in the
grounds of the villa : but he looked a churl — and
he would only have had threats of the constable,
the magistrate, and the House of Correction for
the poor gipsy."

EILEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AK ACTEESa,

" I will do your bidding," I said : and I hastened
away from the spot.

I had given this answer on the impulse of the
moment : but as I reached the garden gate, I re-
pented the haste with which I had acceded to the
old gipsy's demand. My first thought was to put
Lady Lilla to the test, and see whether the pre-
sentation of a flower would have upon her any
effect similar to that which it produced on Edwin
St. Clair. If so, I fancied that it must lead to ex-
planations : she could not leave me any longer in
the dark upon the subject ; and I should have an
opportunity of mentioning the other topic which
was equally prominent in my thoughts : namely,
that which related to the fragment of the letter.
But as I was returning for this purpose, the
thought stole into my brain that if this were a
mere silly trick on the old crone's part, it would
really be insulting to Lady Lilla Essendine to de-
liver her such a message.

I re-entered the garden slowly, still irresolute
how to act : but scarcely had I threaded the shrub-
bery, when I met her ladyship.

" I was seeking you, my dear Ellen," she said.
" I have finished my letters — my time is now at

your disposal But you have a beautiful flower

there ?— and it is a wild one too !"

"Yes," I answered, hesitatingly and in con-
fusion ; " it was given to me by an old gipsy :" —
and I scarcely knew what I was saying.

" An old gipsy P" ejaculated Lady Lilla : and it
was with so sudden a start that she spoke, I felt
convinced in a moment there was indeed something
in the message of which I was the bearer.

" Yes," I responded, now determined to deliver
that message, " she is in the lane, just at the turn-
ing ; and — and — she beseeches a few minutes' in-
terview with your ladyship."

Lady Lilla's countenance, naturally pale, grew
all in an instant absolutely ghastly. That ani-
mation and polish which, as I have before said,
seemed to supply the place of the blushing glow
of health, fled from her cheeks, which became of a
dull, deadly white. Her lips too turned ashy ; and
for a moment methought she staggered as if
stricken a blow.

"And that flower, Ellen?" she said, or rather
gasped forth,

"The old gipsy bade me present it to your
ladyship," I answered, "as a token "

" Oh ! how silly and foolish this is !" exclaimed
Lilla, visibly exerting an almost preterhuman
power to regain her self-possession j while she en-
deavoured to smile away the whole proceeding, as
if it were but a trifle and a jest — though that at-
tempt at smiling was of sickly ghastliness. " You
will begin to fancy," she continued, " that there

is a subtle magic in flowers But I will indulge

the crone — I will see to what extent she has the
impudence to carry her mirth ! Await my return
in the garden."

Thus speaking, Lady Lilla Essendine hurried
away from me, and was at once lost to my view in
the mazes of the shrubbery. I remained riveted
to the spot : a sensation crept over me as if I were
becoming unwillingly yet irresistibly involved in
some dark unhallowed mysteries. The misgivings
which had been previously agitating in my mind
in respect to her ladyship, were strengthened : and
1 felt as if I were afraid of her. What could it

all mean ? — what deep mystic power did the simplo
presentation of a rose convey ? — and was she sub-
ject to precisely the same influence as that which
had shed its spell in so appalling a manner upon
Edwin St. Clair ? I felt dispirited and unhappy i
I wished that I had never accepted Lady Lilla'i
invitation— but that I had accompanied the Nor-
mans to the seaside, where I knew them to be en-
joying themselves; for I had received a letter from
Juliet that very mojning.

I moved slowly away from the spot : I walked
through the garden— I wondered what at that
moment was progressing between the old witch
and her ladyship. I was not however long left
alone ; for in a few minutes I heard light footsteps
approaching from behind : I turned and beheld
Lady Lilla advancing along the gravel-walk.
Smiles were upon her countenance : she accosted
me gaily, exclaiming, " That old gipsy wanted to
tell my fortune ! Of course I disposed of her
quickly. — But how pensive and sad you look, my
dear Ellen! Surely the crone did not dare pre-
sage evil in respect to yourself?"

"No, my'lady— no," I answered. " But do you
not feel — does it not strike you— that it must
seem to me most remarkable- ■"

" Ah, my dear friend, 1 underatand you !" cried
Lilla. "You are abandoning yourself to the im-
pressions of coincidences! Why, you cannot
seriously imagine that there's any connexion be-
tween the means I placed in your possession of
overaweing St, Clair, and this silly freak of an old
gipsy? Truly you astonish me !"

Lady Lilla's merriment pealed forth with a sound
of so much melodious heartiness, that for an instant
I was staggered; and then I thought within my-
self that it must be a mere coincidence after all. I
had never seen her more gay : I could not possibly
believe that this gaiety was feigned on her part ;
and therefore I had no pretext for further com-
ment on that topic. But I was on the very point
of mentioning the other subject : namely, the one in
reference to the fragment of the letter and her own
handwriting ; when some lady-visitors drove up
in their carriage to the gate. These were friends
whom I had seen before. A party was formed to
visit the Zoological Gardens in the neighbourhood :
those ladies returned with us to dinner ; and as
they did not take their leave until somewhat a late
hour, I had no further opportunity of conversing
alone that day with Lady Lilla Essendine.

But on retiring to rest, I again reviewed all
those topics which had been troubling me. Could
it have been a mere delusion on my part when I
fancied that on first mentioning the old gipsy.
Lady Lilla Essendine had turned so ghastly white?
and was I contemplating her at the time only
through the medium of the distorting mirror of
my own morbid sensations ? As for what the
gipsy had told me relative to the tall, slender,
handsome young man, — I attached no more im-
portance to it than that it had vividly reminded
me of my cousin Harry, — with whose description,
in its slightly outlined sketch, it happened to cor-
respond. But this I knew to be accidental : she
had spoken in the wonted jargon of gipsies, who
invariably promise tall, dark- haired, slender lovers
to the silly girls who are foolish enough to listen
to them.

My sleep that night was uneasy and feverish.

ELLEN PBECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

Wlien I awoke in the morning, I found her lalj.
fillip's maid in my room ; and on inquiring what
o'clock it was, I learnt that it was half-an-hour
later than my wonted time for rising. I had lain
EO long awake, with the occupation of my thoughts,
in the early part of the night, that I had slum>
bered heavily during the latter portion.

"If you please, Miss," said the maid, "her
ladyship begs your acceptance of this present. It
was ordered for you two or three days ago— but
only arrived last evening; and her ladyship had
not then an opportunity of placing it in your
bands?"

It was a jewel-casket, containing an elegant gold
watch and chain, a beautiful pair of earrings, two
rings, a brooch, and a wreath of pearls. Tlie maid
directed my attention to an inscription inside the
watch, and which described it as "a tribute of
friendship to Miss Percy, from Lady Lilla Essen-
No. 9.— Ellev Fsbct.

dine." The value of the casket's contents could
not have been much under a hundred guineas.

I was at first sorry that her ladyship had made
me this present, because it disarmed me of my in-
tention of speaking to her on the subject of the frag-
ment of the letter. How could I possibly say any-
thing disagreeable to one who was overwhelming
me with kindnesses ? But a little reflection im-
parted a more satisfactory tenour to my thoughts.
Must not Lady Lilla, I asked myself, possess an
excellent heart that where she formed a friendship
she delighted to give so many proofs of it ? Could
Buch a woman possibly possess a bad heart ? must
not her disposition be in every respect admirable ?
and might I not therefore have been all the while
wronging her with the most unjust suspicions?
Again, was it generous on my part to be so hasty,
as I had been, in leaping at conclusions so preju-
dicial to the character of one who was striving

ELLEN PBECTr OE, THE MEMOIllS OV AW ACTRESS.

her best to aflford me proofs of love and friend-
ship ? At all events I came to the conclusion that
I must remain silent for the present in respect to
the one topic on which I had been so anxious to
speak to Lady Lilla ; and I must thenceforth be
guided by circumstances.

On joining her at the breakfast-table, I prof-
fered my warmest thanks for her kindness towards
me ; and she said so many aflfectionate things, with
an air of so much sincerity, that I was confirmed
in my resolve of avoiding even the remotest chance
of giving her pain by hinting at a suspicion which
might prove to be utterly unfounded.

A fortnight passed from the date of the inci-
dents which I have just been describing. I had
now been three weeks at Claremont Villa, and
another week's sojourn was to complete my visit.
The Normans would then return— I was to rejoin
them — the theatre would reopen — and I was to
make my next appearance before the public in the
character of the heroine in Eomeo and Juliet.
During these three weeks which had thus already
elapsed, I had called twice upon Melissa Harrison,
and had found that her health was improving. I
now proposed to pay her a third visit ; and I
availed myself of an opportunity when Lady Lilla
Essendiue had to make a call at no great distance
from the neighbourhood where my invalid friend
dwelt.

Having passed nearly an hour with Melissa on
the occasion to which I refer, I was returning to
the house where I bad parted from her ladyship,
and where I was to rejoin her,— when I encoun-
tered Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe. The young
nobleman made ue a most courteous salutation,
and stopped to converse. The reader is already
aware that he k^i formed an attachment for my
friend Juliet Norman; and the sort of courtship
he was paying her, had been progressing for about
six or seven months— though up to the time when
the vacation commenced he had not made any
direct proposal : for Juliet had told me previous to
her departure fur Ramagate, that she was both
perplexed and distresseii on that account. He was
an exceedingly handsome young man, with dark
hair and eyes, and a fine profile : he was not as yet
two-and-twenty years of age; and as I have
already stated, was the son of the Earl of Car-
Bhaltou.

" Miss Percy," he said, as I encountered him on
taking my departure from Melissa's lodgings, " I
am rejoiced that I have met you ! You can do
me a favour."

" I, my lord ?" I exclaimed, for a moment taken
by surprise : but then it immediately struck me
that the service he required might be something
in reference to Juliet.

"Yes, Miss Percy," he responded, — "a very
great favour, I can assure you ! But have you
not heard from Miss Norman lately ?" — and me-
thought he looked both confused and anxious as he
hurriedly put the question.

" I have received three or four letters from her,"
I rejijined, " during the time we have been sepa-
rated ; and the last reached me yesterday morn-
ing."

" And did she say nothing But I see she did

not !" exclaimed Lord Frederick. " It was as well ;
— and I am grateful ! But would you. Miss Percy,
kindly undertake to enclose to your friend Juliet

a. note from me in the next letter which you may
be sending her ? — and if it were by to-day's post I
should be all the better pleased."

I was instantaneously struck by the conviction
that something unpleasant must have occurred ia
respect to Lord Frederick's courtship : but I was
at a loss to conjecture what it could possibly be.
I therefore said in a guarded manner, " Your
lordship must best know whether you have Miss
Norman's consent to correspond with her, and
whether her parents have sanctioned such corre-
spondence : for I think I know Juliet well enough
to be assured that she would do nothing without
the concurrence of her father and mother."

" Do not force me into explanations. Miss
Percy !" exclaiujed Eaveuscliffe, who seemed very
much troubled and excited : "but pray render me
the service which I entreat at your hands. It is a
simple one for you to perform "

" My lord," I interrupted him, " there is some-
thing so singular in the demand that I cannot
comply with it. I owe so much to Mr. and Mrs.
Norman that not for worlds would I do anything
that might in any way vex or displease them. It
is evident that you seek to initiate a clandestine
correspondence; and in tbis endeavour I cannot
possibly become an accomplice."

Lord Eavenscliffe looked distressed; and he was
evidently hesitating in what manner he could con-
tinue to urge his entreaty — when I, thinking that
the interview ought not to be prolonged, bowed and
passed on. He did not follow; and as I hastened
to rejoin Lilla Esseodine, I was lost in conjecture
as to the cause of the young nobleman's request.

I should observe that Juliet in her first letter
from Eamsgato had stated that Lord Frederick
Ravenscliffe had gone down to that watering-place
likewise : but in her subsequent communications
she had not mentioned his name. This had not
struck me as singular at the time : but now I
could not help thinking that a rupture must have
taken place between the young nobleman and her-
self. At all events I was satisfied with the part I
had just performed ; for I knew that if Lord
Frederick Eavensdiffe's correspondence witb Juliet
were agreeable to herself and her parents, the
medium of the post was as open to him as to my-
self.

The remaining week which I had to spend
at Claremont Viila, passed without any incident
worthy of mention; and when the day came for
my departure, I warmly expressed my gratitude
for all Lilla's kindnesses towards me.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE BOUQUET.

OiT returning to Hunter Street, I was cordially
received by my friends the Normans, who had
arrived on the previous evening from Eamsgate.
It immediately struck me however that Juliet had
not benefited by the month's change of air; for
she looked pale — she was out of spirits — and there
was about her a languor which alternated with
restlessness, both being very far from affected. I
saw likewise that Mr. and Mrs. Norman occa-
sionally looked furtively at their daughtel : but

BlT.Bir PEBCT; OH, THE MEMOIES OP AW ACTBBSS.

these glances were replete vfith a certain degree
of anxiety ; and thej then exchanged regards with
each other, in a manner that was significant of
some cause for sorrow. Being convinced that
Lord Frederick was in some way connected with
all this, I did i>ot mention his name : nor was he
once alluded to by the Normans in my presence-
It was in the afternoon when I returned to
Hunter Street : we sat conversing in the drawing-
room until dinner-time ; and it was not before we
retired for the night that I found an opportunity
of being alone with Juliet. She then accompanied
me to my chamber ; and throwing herself with an
air of mingled languor and distress into an easy-
chair, she said, " O Ellen ! I have so longed for
this moment to come that I might talk to you in
confidence !"

" I see, dear Julie," I replied, " that there is
something hanging upon your mind."

" Yes — I am indeed very, very unhappy !" cried
poor Juliet : and then the tears began trickling
down her cheeks.

I embraced her, saying everything I could think
of to impart consolation, without seeming to con-
jecture the cause of her distress; for I preferred
that she should take the initiative in the discourse
which I saw must ensue.

" Tou know not how my feelings have been out-
raged," she continued, suddenly wiping away her
tears, and now speaking with a certain bitterness
of tone and indignant pride of look. " I will tell
you everything, Ellen ! I am about to speak of
Bavenscliffe. You know how for months past he
has paid his attentions to me ; and I need not
remind you that his assiduities were conducted in

so delicate a manner I had a right to expect

you know what I mean that his intentions

were honourable."

" Good heavens, Juliet I" I exclaimed, as a con-
jecture flashed in unto my brain : " you would not
have me understand that he dared address you in
any other strain than that which was consistent
with his own behaviour as a gentleman and with
the prudence of your conduct?"

" Alas, Ellen ! I mean that he has done so !
But listen to me," continued Juliet. " It was
with the consent of my parents that he visited at
the house ; and it would be a ridiculous affectation
to deny that they were pleased when they per-
ceived that I was the object of his attentions.
Though only a second son, he has an independent
property of his own, left him by a deceased rela-
tive ; and being of age, he is the master of his
actions. Heaven knows," proceeded Juliet, again
weeping, " I have not loved him from selfish mo-
tives ! Had he possessed nothing, it would have

been all the same though I do not deny that

even while I gave him my heart, my ambition was
flattered by the idea of becoming the wife of a
titled patrician. Before we went to Bamsgate ho
said that he should have the pleasure of meeting
us there ; and accordingly, on our arrival, the first
visit we received was from Lord Frederick. I told
you in a letter that he was there. He was stay-
ing at an hotel : he had his horses and servants
with him: but he appeared to take no pleasure in
anything when away from us — or may I not more
I correctly say, when away from me 1 One day —
we had not been a fortnight at Eamsgate— when
on calling at our lodgings as usual, he happened

to find me alone. Then for the first time did his
lips avow that love which his attentions had long
displayed ; and Oh, Ellen ! you will not think me
foolish when I tell you that it was the happiest
moment of my life. He continued to address me
in the most impassioned strain : he declared that

he could not live without me But, Oh ! I dare

not dwell upon this portion of the dream in which
I had cradled myself!"

Juliet again spoke with bitterness : but the tears
were trickling down her cheeks ; and I was pro-
foundly affected.

" I abandoned myself, as it were," she presently
continued, " to the ecstatic pleasure of listening
to language which flowed like the most delicious
music upon my ear, and the effect of which was to
bathe my soul in a fount of elysiaa bli s. But
gradually methought this language of his began to
flow in a channel which aroused my misgivings ;
and because I listened in the most painful doubt
and bewilderment, he no doubt fancied that I was
yielding to his persuasion. lie spoke out more
plainly : his words became bolder, yet still remain-
ing full of tem'.erness. He told me that his
parents would never consent to his union with one
who liad figured upon the stage — and that he dared
not offend them, for that in a pecuniary sense he
was more under their power than the world gene-
rally imagined. He then spoke lightly of the
marriage ceremony. — In short, Ellen," added
Juliet with an almost suffocating sob of anguish,
" he besought me to leave my home — and— and —
live with him as a mistress."

I was not altogether unprepared for such a reve-
lation ; and yet I felt shocked when it was made.
I threw myself into Juliet's arms, and again said
everything I could think of to console her. Then
disengaging myself from her embrace, I contem-
plated her ; and as I looked at her superbly modelled
form — her handsome countenance — her dark hair
— her magnificent eyes, of deep violet blue — her
splendid teeth— and her long and arching neck —
when I thought too of her polished manners and
her lady-like deportment, and remembered that
•he was in the glory of that youthful beauty, being
not yet twenty years of age — I could not help ex-
claiming, "Oh, the wretched pride of these
haughty aristocratic families!— a pride which in-
terferes with the best feelings of the heart ! — for I
feel convinced that if it were not for this deplorable
influence, Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe would be
rejoiced to make you his bride !"

" Ab, my dear Ellen," responded Juliet, with
deepest mournfulness, " that dream is now over.
Is it necessary for me to tell you how I acted when
the frightful conviction could no longer be kept
away from my mind and I knew that I was listen-
ing to the insidious language of a selfish and
unprincipled young man ? I ordered him from ray
presence : he threw himself at my feet, imploring
my pardon— he gave vent to the most impassioned
ejaculations of despair— but I told him it was too
late! He caught my hand — he pressed it to his
lips: I tore it away from him — I burst from the
room I Oh ! when in the solitude of my chamber,
I thought that my heart would break ! He quitted
the house ; and. when my parents returned from
their walk, I told them everything. Nothing
could exceed my mother's grief — my father's in-
dignation ; and they bitterly reproached themselres

e.8

ELtEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOISS OF Alt ACTRESS.

for having encouraged the risits of Lord Frederick.
My father sent him a letter, desiring that he would
come to the bouse no more ; and the next day we
heard that he had left Hamsgate. In my corre-
spondence with you, dear Ellen, I did not mention
these things— because I knew that you would be
distressed, and I did not choose that my sorrows
should interfere with your enjoyments. And then
too it was a subject on which I could not bring
myself to write calmly : I preferred waiting till we
met, when I might give you my confidence — as I
have now given it. Lord Frederick wrote to me
from London. I knew his handwriting ; and I
gave the letter, unopened, to my father, — who
returned it by the next post. Then came a letter
to my mother : that likewise was sent back un>
opened. And now, Ellen, I have told you all !"

" But I, dear Juliet, have something to commu-
nicate :" — and I proceeded to describe the inter-
view which had taken place between myself and
Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe a week back.

Juliet listened with the most anxious atten-
tion; and when I had finished, she exclaimed,
" You acted well, Ellen— no doubt you acted well !
But who knows — who knows," she continued, with
feverish excitement, " but that he is sincerely peni-
tent—that it was in a moment of aberration he
addressed me in such a strain— and that he would
now willingly by his conduct make every possible
atonement ?"

" You love him then, Juliet ?" I said in a gentle
voice, as I bent over her : " you still love him —
very, very dearly ?"

Her handsome countenance drooped down al-
most to her very bosom, as she murmured in a
tone that was scarcely audible, " Yes— I love him
very, very dearly !"

The sympathy that I experienced for my un-
happy friend, was expressed by a profound sigh.

" Oh ! I have endeavoured," exclaimed Miss
Norman, suddenly lifting up her countenance to-
wards me, " to triumph over this love of mine,
and to shut out from my heart an image which I
feel to be unworthy of that sanctuary. But my
attempt has been in vain. Oh, yes— I love him!
Would that I could take refuge in my pride—
my dignity ! — but I cannot. My mind is not
powerful enough for that efibrt. No child ever
wept more bitterly for the loss or destruction of
some favourite toy, than I have wept, Ellen, for
the loss of that hope which was so bright, and the
destruction of that dream which was so beautiful !
I feel as if all my happiness were gone — as if the
very taste for existence itself were dead within me.
Ah ! do not deem me foolish ! I would be wise if
I could : but to be wise in such a case, one must

be strong and I confess that I have not this

strength ! No, no— I am very, very unhappy !"

Juliet was now weeping piteously ; and I had
no longer any words wherewith to console her.
But she herself again caught at that source of
consolation at which she had previously clutched ;
aud she exclaimed passionately, " My father and
mother did wrong to return those letters ! The
iusult was immense : but there was an atonement
which, if offered, need not have been refused.
Perhaps he may have reflected to himself that
be could value and esteem me all the more as a
wife, since my virtue had prevented me from be-
eoming his mistre'is !"

" My dear friend," I answered, " if Lord Frede-
rick Eavenscliffe be sincere in offering that atone-
ment to which you have alluded, rest assured that
he will discover the means. Though by letter he
has failed in communicating with your parents,
yet may he charge some mutual friend to become
the bearer of a message to which Mr. and Mrs.
Norman will not at least turn a deaf ear."

" Oh, a thousand thanks, Ellen, for that sug-
gestion— that hope !" exclaimed Juliet, now em-
bracing me with fervour. " Yes — yes ! rest as-
sured Frederick will prove himself worthy of my
love ! And that one fault — that transient aberra-
tion— Oh, I can forgive it !"

I considered it would be cruel to destroy the
hope in which Juliet was thus cradling herself —
though I must confess that I had little faith in it.
She now bade me " Good night ;" and it was in a
far better frame of mind, if not with positive joy-
ousness, that she issued from my chamber.

On the following evening I reappeared at the
theatre, in the character of Juliet. This beautiful
drama of Shakspere had always been a favourite
one of mine, even when at my aunt's I had been
wont to study a select edition of the great author's
works, and when I had little dreamt that I myself
should ever appear upon the stage. I had already
once enacted the part of Juliet : it was my third
performance—and the dramatic critics had spoken
well of it. But while at Lady Lilla Essendine's,
I had reflected far more maturely on the niceties,
the peculiarities, and the intricacies, so to speak,
of that part: I had identified myself with the
feelings of the heroine throughout her brief but
romantic and deeply interesting career ; and I was
now confident that I could develop all the power
of the pathos, so to speak, which belonged to the
character, more efi'ectively than Thad previously
done. The house was crowded to sufi'ocation ; and
I recognised Lady Lilla Essendine, with a group
of friends, in one box — the Parkses and some of
their acquaintances in another — Lord Frederick
E.avensclifi'e, with several young gentlemen, in a
third. Methought for an instant that St. Clair
might likewise be present : I assuredly had no in-
clination to see him there ; nor did my looks, as I
swept them round the vast semicircle, encounter
him.

I was full of confidence : I experienced not the
slightest tremor on this occasion. My memory was
clear as the most crystal water is transparent: I
moved, and felt, and thought only as Juliet Capulet.
My success was immense ; and as each disappearance
from the scene elicited fresh and heightened out-
bursts of applause, I had the conviction that I had
succeeded in touching the feelings of the audience
as I had intended to move them. All this is not
vanity, gentle reader : it is an indispensable por-
tion of my narrative ; and I confess that I was
elated — I was exultant: I feel convinced that
wine never produced upon the heart of man such
an exhilaration of the senses as that which I en.
joyed in the hour of my brilliant triumph. But
it was chiefly in that deeply pathetic scene where
I had to appear with the drugged phial and the
pointed dagger, that the result was most effective :
the sobs of many of the ladies were audible from
the boxes; and they were natural tears which
flowed down my own cheeks. I was as completely
Juliet Capulet th«n, as if thff great bard's tragedy

ELLEW PBECT ; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTRESS.

wero a true one, and my spirit, disembodied from
the form that bore the name of Ellen Percy or
Miss Trafford, bad been transfused into that of
the heroine of the drama. When the curtain fell
at the conclusion of the piece, Mr. and Mrs. Nor-
man both with sincerest enthusiasm hailed me as
"a great actress;" and their daughter with no
less fervour echoed the welcome. Mr. Eichards,
the lessee of the theatre, was all bows, congratula-
tions, and politeness; and I could not help men-
tally contrasting his present demeanour with his
patronising and somewhat supercilious bearing to-
wards me on the occasion when I appeared humbly
before him to give a specimen of my abilities. I
was loudly called for on the part of the audience;
and when I was led on the stage before the cur-
tain, much of my native timidity and bashfulness
returned : I was no longer Juliet in the drama —
but was reduced to a consciousness of my own
identity ; and not even the flush of success and
the glow of triumph could lift me completely
above that feeling of embarrassment and con-
fusion. The applause was immense ; and bouquets
were showered upon me, numerous voices inti-
mating that I must look inside these nosegays of
flowers.

I did not comprehend what these words meant
until after I had retired to my dressing-room,
where all the bouquets were brought to me in a
large tray as they had been gathered up from the
stage by some of the theatrical underlings. Mr.
and Mrs. Norman had to appear in the next
piece ; and they had therefore left me to make
suitable changes in their own toilets ; for they had
borne parts in "Borneo and Juliet." I was now
nlone with Miss Norman and her maid, who at-
tended upon us both. Thinking however that
Mrs. Norman Tnight need the assistance of the
maid, I bade her proceed to that lady's dressing-
room ; and thus I was now entirely alone with
Juliet, who was not -to appear until the ballet.

"Let us look at the bouquets!" exclaimed Miss
Norman, when the tray had been deposited on the
table. " You will find some handsome presents
here, Ellen ?"

" Presents ?" I repeated, struck by the conjec-
ture that her words had a meaning beyond a bare
allusion to the flowers themselves.

" Yes," she replied. " Did you not hear several
voices bid you look inside the nosegays .''"

" I remember ! But is it possible "

" So possible," cried Juliet, as she opened the
first bouquet she took up, " that here is a beautiful
diamond ring carefully attached by a ribbon to the
stem of this rose. That came from some fair
finger ; but it shall adorn a fairer one. And here,
in this bouquet, is a bracelet — a magnificent one,
and massive too ! The gift is generous— though
it might have come in inconvenient concussion
against your flesh. What have we here, envelopeu
so carefully in this piece of satin, and fastened
with a pink ribbon to the spray of the moss-rose ?
Another diamond ring! — with the inscription on
the satin, ' To the great tragedian' — Ellen, my
dear Ellen, you are already famous !"

" But what is this ?" I said, now taking up a
bouquet as an excuse to bend over it to conceal the
blushes of mingled triumph and confusion, pride
and modesty, that were upon my cheeks. "A
noto ? And it is addressed to you, Juliet ?"

" Ah !" she ejaculated : and then, as she took
the note from my hand, she added, " it is from
Eavensclifi"e !"

" You will not open it ?" I said, somewhat
offended at the manner in which he thus sought
to render me the instrument as it were of convey-
ing a billet to the young lady whose feelings he
bad so outraged.

But the next instant I was almost sorry for the
words I had spoken — because, as I lonked up at
Juliet, I saw that her handsome countenance had
become perfectly radiant with joy, and then a
sudden mournfulness seized upon it — a mournful-
ness which my speech had shed like a blight upon
the rose.

" Or at least," I immediately added, " you will
only open it in Mrs. Norman's presence ?"

I noticed that a powerful struggle was taking
place in Juliet's bosom : the colour went and came
in rapid transitions upon her cheeks, and after
some hesitation, she said reproachfully, " Oh,
Ellen ! if it were you, I would not be so hpjsh!"

"Dearest Juliet," I cried, acutely pained by that
species of reproach which had just issued from her
lips, " believe me — Oh ! believe me, that in a mo-
ment when I have every reason to be overwhelmed
with joy, I would more than ever give much to be
enabled to infuse happiness into your heart. If
you think therefore "

" At all events," said Miss Norman, " I shall be
reading it in your presence ; and I pledge myself
that whatever it may contain, I will place this
billet in the hands of my parents."

" Then open it, Juliet," I said.

Her superb violet eyes flashed upon me a glance
of unspeakable gratitude; and the next instant
the billet was open in her hand. It evidently con.
tained but a few words — for at a glance she read
them ; and with a cry of joy she sank upon a
seat.

"Eead it, dear Ellen— read it !" she exclaimed ;
and she handed me the note, the contents of which
were as follow: —

"Pardon me, dearest Juliet, for an ofi'ence
which I have bitterly deplored ever since it was
committed. Be mine!— become my wife — accept
my hand !

" Yours ever faithfully and devotedly,

" FREDERICK RAVENSCLIFFE."

" I congratulate you, Juliet," I said, embracing
her with fervour.

" Oh ! I knew that he would make every atone-
ment," she said, trembling with joy : and perhaps
never did she look more truly handsome than at
that moment. " Ah ! cannot I now forgive him
for that one offence ? Oh, yes ! — and my parents
will likewise accord him their forgiveness !"

For some time we conversed together upon this
change in Juliet's prospects — so that the bouquets
were awhile forgotten. I no longer felt hurt at
RavenscliSe's conduct with respect to the mode he
had adopted in conveying the billet to my friends
I was exceedingly happy on her account ; and I
had no difliculty in agreeing with her that the
young nobleman's past ofi'eDce was atoned for. I
was all the more rejoiced too, inasmuch as I had
been agreeably disappointed in this result of Lord
Frederick RavenscliSe's proceedings with referenw

ELLrif r-EECT; OB, THE MEMOISS OP AW ACTEB88.

•i> Miss Norman. But these reflections wero at
llie instant onlj hastily made.

We now resumed our examination of the bou-
quets ; and out of some fifty or sixty which had
been thrown upon the stage, ten or a dozen con-
tained presents of more or less value — some few be-
ing even costly. When I returned home that night,
I insisted upon making my friends, the Normans,
the sharers of my presents: but nothing could
induce Mr. and Mrs. Iforman to accept anything
from me. It was even with difficulty I persuaded
them to allow me to place a ring on Juliet's finger,
or that she would take it. Then, in my presence,
did she present to her parents the billet she had
received from Lord Ravenscliffe — requesting me to
explain the circumstances in which it had been
conveyed to her. This narrative I at once gave—
omitting however the remonstrance I had in the
first instance breathed against Juliet's opening the
missive. This deficiency she generously hastened
to make good ; so that I received the approving
and grateful looks of her parents,

" I cannot reproach you, my dear child," said
Mr. Norman, affectionately addressing his
daughter, " for having opened the billet in the
presence of your excellent friend, Ellen. Nor
need I ask," he added slyly, at the same time
tenderly caressing Juliet's dark hair, " what reply
is to be sent to Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe."

" By his present honourable conduct," said Mrs.
Norman, " he makes every possible reparation for
his temporary misbehaviour."

I could not help refiecting, now that I had leisure
for such meditation, that there must have been a
sad want of principle on the part of the young
nobleman to seek to seduce Juliet from the paternal
care, and that he could not be altogether unprac-
tised in the insidious language of which he had
made use— especially when he had spoken so lightly
of the marriage tie. I could not therefore alto-
gether reconcile myself to the belief that he was
certain to make a good husband. But it was not
for me to throw a damp upon the spirits of those
kind friends who were happy, nor to constitute my-
self a prophetess of evil. Before we retired to
rest that night, Mr. Norman intimated his inten-
tion of communicating with Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe in the morning.

This he accordingly did immediately after break-
fast on the ensuing day; and as there were no
rehearsals to be attended, the time was at the
Normans' disposal for the expected interview with
his lordship. Precisely at one o'clock the young
nobleman's handsome phaeton drove up to the
door J and from behind the curtain of the drawing-
room window Juliet beheld him alight. I was
alone with her in that apartment ; for her parents
were waiting to receive him in the first instance in
a parlour down stairs. Their interview with him
lasted for upwards of half-an-hour, during which
time poor Juliet was a prey to the most anxious
suspense. Could anything be wrong ? was he fail-
ing to satisfy her parents of his honourable inten-
tions— of his contrition for the past — or of his
ability to maintain a wife ? I assured her over
and over again that I felt convinced she had
nothing- to apprehend on these points; or else
Lord Frederick would neither have written the
billet, nor have come in answer to Mr. Norman's
summons : but I suggested that her parents were

doubtless proceeding with suitable caution. At
length hasty 8t«p« wen heard ascending, or rather
rushing up the staira: the door burst open; and
the young nobleman flung himself at Juliet's
feet.

I retreated from the apartment; for I knevr
that the lovers would prefer being alone together,
and that they had much to say. There was for-
giveness to be solicited and the assurance thereof
to be returned : there were doubtless plans to be
discussed and settled for the future. 1 went down
stairs, and joined Mr. and Mrs. Norman, who had
remained in the parlour. Methought 'U my en-
trance they were in serious deliberation together ;
and I was on the point of withdrawing from that
room also, when Mrs. Norman bade me remain,

"We have no secrets from you, Ellen," she
said; " and moreover you must assist as bridemaid
at the ceremony which is soon to take place —
though under circumstances sufficiently private
and indeed secret as to divest the event itself of
half the joy and satisfaction which as Juliet's
parents we should otherwise experience."

I was both surprised and pained at the lan-
guage which I thus heard : for it struck me as an
evil omen, in addition to my previous gloomy pre-
sages, with regard to the wedded Life on which my
beloved friend Juliet was, as it appeared, speedily
to enter.

"But after all," said Mr. Norman, with the
visible effort of one straining and striving to re-
concile himself to something which was neverthe-
less not quite so agreeable as it might be — " but
after all, Ravenscliffe explained himself very
frankly. You know, Ellen, that he is the second
son of the Earl and Countess of Carshalton :
there is no name in the peerage more ancient
than this title— there is no family in the whole
range of aristocracy more proud than that which
bears it. Now, we must not blind ourselves to
the fact that there is in certain quarters a preju-
dice "

" But look at our Juliet !" exclaimed Mrs.
Norman, with all a mother's pride : " is she not
superbly handsome ? where will you see a finer
grown young woman?"

" And she is amiable, and good, and well-
mannered," I interjected; "and in every respect
worthy to become a nobleman's wife, if the ridi-
culous prejudices of society were set aside."

" However," said Mrs. Norman, " of course
poor Lord Frederick cannot help those prejudices,
as they are entertained by his father and mother ;
and he has explained himself, as Mr. Norman has
just stated, so frankly — he spoke with so much
sincerity — that it was impossible to avoid yielding
to his arguments, his entreaties, and his represen-
tations."

" But while we are thus commenting upon the
matter," sai 1 Mr. Norman, " Ellen continues in
ignorance of the arrangements that have been
made, as well as of the motives for making them.
You must know, Ellen, the world has hitherto
been mistaken relative to Lord Frederick's pecu-
niary position. A deceased relation left him a
sum of money in the funds, producing about three
thousand a year — but on condition that he was
not to marry before the age of twenty-three with-
out his parents' consent — it being doubtless sup-
posed that by the time he should have attained

Ei/iKsr peKct ; oB, the memoirs of an actress.

that period of life, his mind would be sufficiently
formed and his experiences enlarged enough to
allow him to cater for his own happiness."

" And if," interjected Mrs. Norraan, " he should
contract a marriage contrary to his parents'
wishes before the age of twenty-three, the money
80 bequeathed by his deceased relative is to pass
into other hands. Is it not so, my dear ?"

" The matter stands as you have described it,"
rejoined Mr. Norman. " Now, it is quite certain
my dear Ellen," he continued, " that the Earl and
Countess of Carshalton will not give their consent
in the present instance "

" Then why not wait," I exclaimed, " until Lord
Frederick shall be three-and-twenty and his own
master ?"

" Ah !" said Mr. Norman, with a sigh, " because
Lord Frederick is madly enamoured of our Juliet;
and the period of eighteen months which he would
have to wait, appears a perfect age to him. I
can well understand his feelings. And then too,
there is no denying the fact, Ellen, that so pro-
longed a courtship would have its inconveniences
and its risks. Juliet could not continue on the
stage when once formally plighted to Lord Fre-
derick ; and our means would be seriously cur-
tailed by the loss of her salary. Not but that
we would make any sacrifice for our dear girl

There is however another consideration ; and

this is that the ardour of love may cool in a pro-
longed courtship ; and it would be a terrible blow
to Juliet's happiness, if, after all. Lord Frederick
should change his mind and break off the match."

" Uesides," added Mrs. Norman, "it would be
useless to seek to disguise from you, Ellen, that
situated as we are — wanting to give our dear
daughter a position — this match is a very eligible
one — I may even say brilliant. She acquires a
title— and though for eighteen mouths she may
not bear it "

"In a word," ejaculated Mr. Norman, "we
Lave yielded to Lord Frederick's entreaty that the
marriage shall take place with the utmost privacy.
When once his twenty-third year is attained, and
the money in the funds is finally and irrevocably
made over to him by the trustees, he may boldly
proclaim his marriage without the necessity of
concealing the date of it ; and thus our dear
child's reputation cannot possibly suffer in the
long run, whatsoever temporary little incon-
venience may arise from this secret — and I may
say clandestine union. Everything, therefore, is
settled according to Lord Frederick's desire ; and
though one could have wished that it were other-
wise in a certain sense, yet we cannot in this
world expect everything to run precisely with our
inclinations."

" The marriage will take place in about a fort-
night," resumed Mrs. Norman : " it will of course
be solemnized by special license— and none but our-
selves will be present."

" But the clergyman ?" I suggested : " how will
yoa ensure his secresy ? He might possibly be-
tray the affair to the Earl of Carshalton before it
is too late to recede "

" Lord Frederick has undertaken to provide
against that casualty," said Mr. Norman. " He
is acquainted with a clergyman — a poor curate in
some distant county — on whom he can rely ; and
by this reverend gentleman will the nuptial bless-

ing be pronounced. In short, my dear Juliet,
every arrangement is finally settled ; and Ellen's
mother and myself have done our best to ensure
our dear child's happiness. Ah ! by the bye, I
forgot to mention that Lord Frederick has a beau-
tiful little place — a mere cottage, but singularly
picturesque in its situation amidst the few acres of

pleasure-grounds belonging to it it is only a

few miles distant from London and it is there

that the ceremony is to be performed. The happy
pair will immediately go upon the Continent, un-
der cir<!umstances of the strictest privacy, to pass
the honeymoon : we shall pretext a visit that Juliet
is paying to a relation in the country ; and on her
return she will come back to us, until the time
when Lord Frederick may no longer be necessi-
tated to conceal their marriage."

" You forget to add, my dear," said Mrs. Nor.
man, who had sighed more than once during her
husband's last speech, " that Lord Frederick just
now showed us all the papers connected with the
manner in which his fortune was left him. And
therefore you see, my dear Ellen," she remarked,
turning to me, "that the young nobleman has
behaved most straightforward and frankly in the
matter, and that he is doing all he can under ex<
isting circumstances."

The footman now entered to announce that lun-
cheon was served; and we proceeded to the dining-
room, where we were almost immediately joined
by Juliet and her noble suitor. I saw at a glance
that Miss Norman was completely happy ; and it
was no wonder— for being deeply enamoured of Lord
Frederick, as well as having her ambition gratified
by the prospect of sharing his patrician rank, she
could easily reconcile herself to the temporary in-
convenience of secresy and privacy in reference to
the contemplated marriage. Besides, one who loves
thinks only of possessing the object of the heart's
adoration ; and to ensure this aim even the opinion
of the world itself will be defied so long as there
is the consciousness that the time will come when
everything will be cleared up.

After luncheon I retired to my own chamber,
to rjfiect upon all that I had heard, — leaving the
Normans and Lord Frederick together. I by no
means approved of the plans that were to be
adopted ; nor did I conceive that they augured
satisfactorily for my friend Juliet's eventual happi-
ness. I considered that in existing circumstances
it would have been much more prudent to wait
until Lord Frederick was released from all shackles
and became his own master. Methought that if
his love were of a nature calculated to ensure
Juliet's felicity, it could not possibly be impaired
by the ordeal of an additional eighteen months'
courtship ; but that if, on the other hand, it were
of a character to cool down during that interval,
it were better that Juliet should altogether re-
nounce the idea of marriage with such an indi-
vidual. It was not however for me to suggest
my advice, much less to proclaim my misgivings
to Mr. and Mrs. Norman, who were the best judges
— or at least the most rightful and natural ones —
of the means most calculated to ensure their daugh-
ter's welfare; and as for starting a presentiment,
a presage, or an objection to throw a damp on
Juliet's happiness, I could not do such a thing 1
One fact was clear enough, — that Mr. and Mrs.
Norman, with all their good qualities in other re-

EILEN PEECT; OB, THE UEU0IB8 OV kH ACTEES3.

Bpects, were bringing themselves to strain every
point in order to secure a brilliant alliance for their
daughter; and as I knew that they loved her de-
votedly, I could not for a moment suspect other-
wise than that they were doing everything for the
best. Indeed, it was natural enough that they
should be inclined to make some sacrifices for the
purpose of giving Juliet a position, which, when
the time for secresy should have passed, would be
for her a brilliant one.

Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe now became a daily
visitor at the house : and Juliet gave up her en-
gagement at the theatre. The Kormans began to
speak of an elderly female relative who resided at
Dover; and it was a fact that they did possess
such a relation in the person of a Mrs. Oldcastle.
This lady was very well oflf: she had long been a
, widow : but as she detested the stage and every-
body connected with it, she had for years forborne
from holding any intercourse with the Normans.
Mr. and Mrs. Norman, however, now began to in-
timate to their friends and visitors that Mrs. Old-
castle had relented — that she had written to them
—and that it was in deference to her wishes that
Juliet had resigned her engagement as a ballet
dancer. The falsehood was venial enough under
the circumstances : but it was a falsehood never-
theless. It however prepared the way to aflford a
pretext for Juliet's absence from home, and to
prevent the slightest suspicion or whispering of
scandal.

During the interval of a fortnight which now
passed, Juliet was so completely happy that I never
could find it in my heart to breathe a single syl-
lable which was calculated to throw a damp upon
ber spirits ; and I was moreover so much occupied
with my own dramatic engagements— while she
on the other hand was engaged with the prepara-
tions for the nuptials — that we had less oppor-
tunities for being together than heretofore. It
was stated in due course that a letter had been
received from Mrs. Oldcastle, inviting Juliet to
pass a few weeks with her ; and thus those pre-
parations which she was making were accounted
for to the servants of the bouse as well as to the
visitors.

In the morning of the day fixed for the nuptials,
Mr. and Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself pro-
ceeded in the carriage to London Bridge, as if we
were about to embark on board a steamer to have
a trip to Gravesend, whence, as Mr. Norman
hinted, we were to see Juliet off on the alleged
visit to Mrs. Oldcastle at Dover. Thus everything
was avoided that could excite the suspicion of the
servants ; and when the carriage had departed, we
repaired to the spot where, according to previous
arrangement. Lord Frederick Bavenscliffe had bis
own equipage in readiness to receive us. We
proceeded to his little villa, which was in the
neighbourhood of Blackheatb; and I found it
quite as picturesque as Mr. Norman had described
it. It was small, but elegantly fitted up, and might
be denominated a pretty bachelor-retreat for a
young nobleman who was far from deficient in
mental resources. An elderly housekeeper, a valet,
and a maid-servant constituted the domestic estab-
lishment : Lord Frederick considered them all three
to be completely trustworthy ; and moreover the
two latter were to accompany himself and his bride
on their Continental visit. Mr. and Mrs. Norman

were evidently struggling against feelings of dis-
tress at the prospect of separating from their
daughter : and perhaps they could not altogether
shut out from their minds the conviction that the
bridal might, under other circumstances, have been
taking place with less gloomy auspices. Juliet
herself was in one sense depressed at the idea of
parting from her parents and me ; but in another
sense she was happy — for she fondly loved Fre-
derick Eavenscliffe, and she had now the fullest
confidence in him. The young nobleman appeared
radiant with joy : but as for myself, I experienced
a sadness which I made every effort to conceal.

It was about noon when we reached the Cottage,
as it was called ; and we rambled about the grounds
for some hours. At five o'clock dinner was served
up : the ceremony was to take place a little later ;
and immediately afterwards a post-chaise was to
arrive to bear away the happy couple : for Lord
Frederick had sent back his own equipage to town,
so that the domestics belonging thereto might
know nothing of what was in progress. The
clergyman bad not as yet made his appearance ;
though Bavenscliffe had expected him to dinner.
He however knew that he had already arrived in
London — for he had seen him on the previous day ;
and he felt no apprehension that there would be
any disappointment. At about seven o'clock a
cab drove up to the gate of the fence which
bounded the garden in front of the cottage ; and
Bavenscliffe, catching a glimpse of its occupant,
joyously announced the arrival of his reverend
friend, Mr. Croft.

Mrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself now hastily
rose from table, and ascended to a chamber which
had been prepared for our reception.. The moment
had come when the bride was to apparel herself
for the departure that was to take place imme-
diately after the solemnization of the ceremony.
Her mother could not keep back her tears ; and
Juliet, thro?ving herself into her arms, for some
minutes wept bitterly. I also wept; and thus the
progress of the toilet was suspended. Those tears
were however a relief to our surcharged hearts;
and Mrs. Norman now exerted every effort to re-
gain her composure. Juliet attired herself in
travelling, costume ; and the rich lace veil thrown
over her bonnet— but which was presently to bo
removed— was the only indication of the bride.
She was pale, but eminently handsome; and ere
we descended from the chamber, both her mother
and myself embraced her fervently, wishing her all
possible happiness.

It was now half-past seven o'clock in the even*
ing ; and as it was past the middle of August the
dusk was already beginning to close in around.
On entering the drawing-room, which was on the
ground-floor, we found the curtains closed, and
wax-lights were burning upon the table. Lord
Frederick and Mr. Norman were conversing with
Mr. Croft, who was now attired in canonicals.
The special license and the little box containing
the wedding-ring were upon the table near a
cushion which supported the prayer-book. My
eyes were filled with tears; and therefore the first
glimpse which I obtained of the scene, was as if I
beheld it through a mist. I did not immediately
catch sight of Mr. Croft's countenance : but when
Lord Frederick and Mr. Norman hastened towards
us, I passed a kerchief across my eyes and looked

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AX ACTRESS,

at the minisfcr. No language can describe the
sensation which took possession of me as my first
glance was flung upon that countenance! — words
li.ive no faculty to depict the mingled astonishment
and dismay with which I was smitten as an idea
struck me ! Could it be possible that the face of
this clergyman was far from unfamiliar to me ? —
had I indeed seen it before — and in such circum-
stances too, the remembrance of which almost
made me shriek out ? Or was it a delusion on my j
part ? A dimness came over my vision — the lights
appeared to pale into a mist— my thoughts fell into
confusion — and in respect to those present I could
scarcely distinguish them from each other, with
the exception of one— that individual in the white
surplice, with the scarf (lowing in front and the
black and red hood at his back ! j

1 remember that Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe
introduced ilrs. Norman, Juliet, and myself in i
No. 10.— Ellen Pekcy.

our turns to Mr. Croft; and then the ceremony
commenced. I advanced mechanically behind
Juliet towards the table : I was Iftbouring under a
species of stupefaction which to me was like the
paralyzition of every sense — but which to those
about me might only have seemed a natural agi a-
tion, consistent with the circumstances, and chiefly
arising from the prospect of separation from a
friend whom I loved as a sister.

The ceremony was already progressing before
the dimness passed sufficiently away from my
vision, and before ray thoughts settled so far down
into coUectedness as to enable me take another
look at the surpliced minister. I now gazed upon
him intently ; and the conviction grew gradually
stronger in my mind that 1 knew his countenance
full well. It was changed since I had first seen it
nearly eight years back: the hair that was i'lcii
dark, bad become grizzled— the bi.vjk e^es that

ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTHE88.

were then piercing, had lost their fire ; and there
was no-.v an incipient stoop in the tall stature. All
this was the difl'erence between the age of about
forty and that of nearly fifty : but still the ex-
pression of that countenance — Ob ! it was the
Bame ! — the same as I had first seen it in my
grandfather's parlour at Leeds — the same as I had
afterwards caught a glimpse of it when looking
tiu'ough the window of the chamber of deatli !
Yes— it was unmistakably the same! But the
Toice— Oh ! I had not yet thought of that ! And
no wonder : for not merely had my senses been
hitherto looked as it were in stupefaction, but
there was nothing now to startle me with the re-
collection of that voice. For when I had heard it
in my grandfather's parlour nearly eight years
back— and then again at Mrs. Parks's residence in
London about six years back — it was rough and
coarse ; whereas now it flowed with a soft so-
lemnity.

"Oil!" I exclaimed within myself, "it is a de-
lusion on my part ! Heaven be thanked that it is
bo!"

My heart bounded with joy : for infinite was
the relief it thus for an instant experienced ; — and
at that very moment the ring was placed by the
bridegroom on the finger of the bride. Yet only
for an instant was this relief on my part : because,
i'.s I sgain looked towards Mr. Croft's countenance,
a hurricane of misgivings swept back into my
mind. Once more I felt as if I must shriek out ;
and then all in an instant the thought flashed to
me that even if my suspicion were correct, and
that the Mr. Croft whom I beheld before Ime was
identical with the stranger of other times, he
might be a clergyman after all. Still there was a
hideous mystery enveloping all this; and omen
appeared to accumulate upon omen most inaus-
piciously for this bridal that was being celebrated.
Scarcely had this reflection passed through my
mind, when a particular intonation of the clergy-
man's voice caused 't to relapse as it were into a
roughness from which its hitherto softened flow
had only been redeemed by an artificial efibrt ; and
it seemed to touch a chord that vibrated most
painfully through my heart. Again did that
dimness come over my vision — again did my
thoughts quickly fall into confusion : my strength
was ebbing away — consciousness was as it were
slipping out of me — and I sank down in a
swoon.

When I came back to consciousness, I was
lying upon the bed in the chamber where Juliet's
toilet Lad been performed; and Mrs. Norman
was bending over me. There was an odour of
vinegar in the room : I now remembered that I
had fainted ; and Mrs. Norman said in a gentle
voice, "The scene was too much for you, my
sweet Ellen! Ofi, 1 had such dilHculty to recover
you!"

" Have I been unconscious very long ?" I in-
quired, raising myself with an effort to a sitting
posture on the bed.

"Yes — for some time," replied Mrs. Norman.
"Juliet has gone"— here the poor lady vainly en-
deavoured to stifle a sob — "but she kisse 1 you fer-
fently, Ellen — she bade me say everything kind !

She was loath to leave you thus Oh! and she

wept too— she wept when the last moment came —
bitterly did she weep !"

" And it is all over ?" I said, with a sudden ex-
clamation as though I would have prevented it if
the power to do so still remained.

•'Ah! no wonder, my dear girl, that you were
so painfully affected !" continued Mrs. Norman,
who was now herself weeping bitterly. " You
have felt how hard it was to tear yourself away
from one whom you loved as a sister : but I, my
dear child, have been compelled to part from a
daughter !"

" Yes, yes — it is hard !" I murmured, almost
suffocated with my own sobs : and then I abruptly
asked, "But the clergyman, Mr. Croft?"

" He too is gone, my dear Ellen," rejoined Mrs.
Norman. " He is compelled to return by a night-
coach, it appears, to the country village of which
he has the curacy."

"Do you remember the name of it?" I in-
quired.

"Oh, yes!— Embledon," answered Mrs. Nor-
man ; " and it is situated in Warwickshire. But
what made you ask, my dear child ?"

I had a very great mind at that moment to re-
veal to Mrs. Norman everything that had been
oppressing me — the cause of my swoon — and the
uneasy misgiving which was still floating in my
mind : but a second thought determined me to re-
main silent. Whether Mr. Croft and the stranger
were identical, was one thing : but that he was
really a clergyman was another; and as this latter
fact seemed to ba established beyond doubt, what-
soever I might know of the man (if indeed any-
thing at all) could not aff'ect the legality of the
marriage. I consequently made some evasive
reply to Mrs. Norman's question ; and declaring
that I was now better, I descended to the parlour,
where her husband was awaiting us.

Mr. Norman had himself evidently been weep-
ing— for he was devotedly attached to his daugh-
ter; and I knew ho.w severe a. pang it must have
cost him to separate from her. We entered a
vehicle which was in readiness to receive us ; and
returned to London, But little was said during
the ride ; and the house, on our arrival, seemed
dreary enough without Juliet.

CHAPTER XV.

Ow the following morning I received a letter from
my cousin Harry. It was brief and hurriedly
written, and conveyed to me a distressing piece of
intelligence. My aunt Mrs. Wakefield had been
seized with a sudden illness, which evidently ex-
cited the greatest apprehensions in the mind of her
afiectionate son ; and he requested that I would
hasten to Paisley with all possible despatch — for
that such was the earnest prayer of his mother.
While my cheeks were still wet with the tears
which this letter elicited, I proceeded to show it
to Mr. and Mrs. Norman; and the counsel they
gave me was in complete accordance with my own
inclination and the tenour of the request contained
in that letter. I was to set off for Paisley at
once ; and my preparations for the journey were
quickly made.

I am not about to dwell upon the details of that

journey of some hundreds of iiiiies to the grent
Scotch tnanufacturing town which is situated a
short distauce from Glasgow. Suffice it to say
that I proceeded with all possible despatch, aud
that I reached my destination without any incident
worthy of mention. On my arrival in Paisley,
I immediately obtained a guide to carry my
box and conduct me to my aunt's address. He
led me to the outskirt of the town ; and indicat-
ingf a small but neat cottage-residence, which stood
isolated in a little garden, informed me that this
was my aunt's abode. As we appro:iched the
door, a young woman — evidently a servant-maid
— was issuing forth; and on perceiving me, ac-
companied by a man carrying a box, she at once
accosted me. I announced my name, and found
that I was expected. Then, in suspenseful
anxiety, I inquired after my aunt. The domestic
shook her head, and tlie tears started from her
eyes, as she faltered fortli a few words, which gave
me to understand that Mrs. Wakefield was still
living, but that there was little chance of her re-
covering. The doctor had just been ; and the ser-
vant-girl was hurrying to his surgery to fetch
some medicine which he was desirous that his
patient should at once take.

I bade the girl speed on her errand, and not
uselessly waste time bj tarrying to announce me.
The front door stood open : the porter deposited
my bus in tlie passage; and I began to ascend
the stairs softly. But I was now almost completely
overwhelmed by affliction. I pictured to myself
bow great would be the anguish of poor Henry at
losing that pfTectionate mother of whom he was so
fond ; while I myself -felt that a dear relative and
a valuable friend might be about to pass away
from me. I leant against the wall for support : —
alrea«iy exhausted by my long journey, I was now
well nigh crushed completely by mental excru-
ciation.

After thus pausing on the stairs for a few mo-
ments, I continued the ascent, and on reaching
the little landing on the first floor, my ear caught
the sound of voices. The door of the invalid's
cliambor stood partially open ; and it was from the
interior of this room that the voices emanated,

" Oh, mother ! dearest mother 1" I heard
Henry exclaim, with a burst of anguish, " do not
tell mc this— do not tell me that death is to se-
parate us so soon ! Oh, no ! such a calamity is too
frightful, my deat mother! — it is something too
dreadful for me to contemplate I"

" My poor boy," replied Mrs. Wakefield, iu
feeble accents, and with an indescribable mournful-
nes8 in her tone; "it is better that you should
know the worst at once, so that you may prepare
yourself for that which is inevitable. Listen to
me, my dear Henry I If your cousin comes not
ere the last breath wavers upon my lips, tell poor
Ellen that I bequeathed her my blessing — which
was all that I had to leave ber ! Tell her like-
wise, Henry, that in my last moments she was not
forgotten ; and that amongst my last words her
name was mentioned. I know that she is a steady
and good girl; and I feel convinced that in her
capacity of companion to Misj Norman, she is
eating the bread of honest industry. But she
dwells in a great city, Henry, which is full of
vices and temptations ; and were she no-.v present,
I should bosto.v upon her my last advice. Tell

her, dear Henry, that I should have enjoined hei
to cling to the simplicity of those habits which she
cherished when with us— to avoid costly apparel,
no matter how competent her means may be —to
attend regularly at a place of worship — and espe-
cially to avoid theatres aud all those places of
public resort But, Ah ! what is that ?"

So strong was the burst of anguish with which
my cousin Harry had first spoken -and so plain-
tively mournful was the voice in which his mother
had answered him— that I v;as transfixed to the
spot with the overwhelming agony of mv own
feelings. Then, as my aunt had begun to speak
of myself in terms so tender and so loving, I was
affected to a degree that I again leant against the
wall for support. The tears were raining down
my cheeks ; and though my sobs were at first in-
audible to those within the chamber, they wore
not the less powerfully convulsing me within my
own bosom. I listened to every syllable that fell
from the lips of my dying aunt: I was treasuring
up the precious counsel thus wafted to my car,
but of which she little thought that I was an
auditress; — and then all in a momept came that
one injunction which fell upon me like a blight !
Searing, scathing, withering as a lightning- flash,
were those words which thus all in au instan'; car-
ried to my mind the horrible conviction that so
far from having a secret to tell which would give
satisfaction, the revelation thereof would fill with
anguish the heart of the perishing woman ! Au.l
then it was, too, that my convulsing sobs becatBe
suddenly audible to the inmates of tlie chamber,
and that my aunt's speech was br>)k.-:i off by an
ejaculation elicited by the sounds which from the
threshold of the half-open door abruptly smote
her ear.

I advanced into the room with tottering steps,
and with vision nearly blinded by the scorching
tears that were profusely pouring forth from my
eyes ; aud the next instant I was clasped in my
cousin Henry's arms. Then, in a few moments, I
was folded iu the embrace of my dying aunt; and
she wept over me.

I knelt by the couch: my cousin Henry knelt
by my side — Mrs. Wakefield bestowed her bless-
ings upon us. But her speech was feeble — her
utterance was painful— her words soon grew inar-
ticulate ; and. Oh ! they mingled with that unmis-
takable sound which once beard by any one pre-
sent at the departure of a fellow-creature to the
other world, never cau be forgotten ! It was the
death-rattle ! I had heard it before — I had hoard
it on that memorable night when my grandfather
died ; and I knew that no earthly power could
now refard the flight of my perishiug aunt's spirit
to the unknown mansions that lie beyond the gr.ive.

Full of indescribable anguish were my sobs as I
pressed her hand to my lips : but poor Henry —
he knew not that his mother was already dying!
Nevertheless he gave vent to passionate lamenta-
tions ; for he fancied she was very ill ; and rccoU
lecting that the girl had gone for the medicine, ho
suddenly started up, declaring that he himself
would speed for it, as he knew that it would do his
dear motlier good ! But at that very instant all
was over; and when witli a solemn and awful
feeling which now predominated over my intense
grief, I whispered to him that she was no more,
he seemed smitten with a terrific consternation.

ELlEir PEECX; OB, THE MEIIOIES OF AN ACiaESS.

But I will not dwell upon this scene : it is one i
which I must leave to my readers to imagine, and
which I myself can never forget. Suffice it to say
that it was some time before Henry would believe
that his mother's vital breath had passed away be-
yond all human power of recall, and that he was
now utterly an orphan ! At length, when he could
no longer blind himself to the stupendous fact —
when he found that the last wild hope was indeed
gone — he gave not vent to lamentations ; but he
sank into a profound and silent grief.

The funeral took place : and during the five or
six days which intervened betwixt the death and
the sepulture, but little conversation took place on
the part of Henry and myself, though we were
almost constantly together. There was only one
topic which we could have touched upon : and on
this he would rather reflect than discourse. Oh !
how deeply, deeply was my heart touched when at
times I beheld his gaze fixed in a sort of dream*
like stupor upon me, as if bis lips were about to
frame the question—" Is it all a dream ? or is this
thought which haunts me without ceasing and
hangs upon my mind with a leaden weight, — is it
a reality ?"

The funeral took place, I say; and when my
cousin had seen the remains of his beloved mother
consigned to the grave, he appeared to arouse him-
self to the consciousness of existence, and that his
existence had its duties. I had superintended all
the arrangements for the funeral ; for my cousin
had hitherto appeared incapable of anything that
was calculated to force upon his mind the conriction
of the loss he had sustained. And now he com-
prehended all that I had done; and he thanked
me fervently, while the tears rained down bis
cheeks.

On the day of the funeral, Mr. Macdonald, the
manufacturer in whose service Henry was em-
ployed, called at the cottage. He was a kind-
hearted man ; and he came not merely to condole
with Henry Wakefield on the loss he had sustained,
but likewise to inquire into his present prospects
and oEfer any assistance which he might be enabled
to afford. Mrs. Wakefield had lived upon an
annuity purchased by what little was saved from
the wrecks of her deceased husband's property;
and this annuity had consequently died with her.
It however transpired that she had managed by
dint of a rigid economy to save between two and
three hundred pounds; and this was all Harry's
heritage. Mr. Macdonald, though good-hearted,
was worldly-minded : he speedily entered upon
business-matters; and it was natural enough that
Henry should thankfully accept the counsel of one
who stepped forward as a friend. I was not pre-
sent at the interview: but my cousin afterwards
repeated to me everything that took place.

" I know," said Mr. Macdonald, " that change
of scene is indispensable for the mind after such a
bereavement as this, and that your feelings would
not recover their equilibrium so long as you remain
in a dwelling where everything recalls the memory
of the lost one. You are a good young man; and
though you have not been many months in ray
employment I have taken an interest in you. I
have affairs in New York which require the atten-
tion of a trustworthy person ; and I propose that
j-cu should proceed thither on my behalf. You
cau place your little capital in my hands ; and I

will lay it out for you to the very best alvuntaje.
I do not mean to hurry you asvay from Paisley,
nor to dictate to you. I merely proffer my counsel,
and to do that which I conceive best for you under
existing circumstances. Your cousin is staying
with you; but I believe, from what you have be-
fore told me, that she is in a situation enabliug
her to earn her own livelihood ?"

Henry replied in the affirmative ; and having
expressed his most grateful acknowledgments to
Mr. Macdonald, he said, " You wiU permit me to
consult my cousin before I give a decisive answer
in respect to the plan which you have so kindly
proposed for my benefit. Slie has been to me as
a sister throughout this trying period; and I
would do nothing without her complete concur-
rence."

Mr. Macdonald applauded Henry's suggestion ;
and he took his leave. My cousin then sought
mo, and recapitulated everything that had taken
place.

I must here for a few minutes interrupt the
thread of my narrative, to explain some of the
reflections that I had made since my aunt's death.
At first I was frightfully shocked at the bare idea
of having embraced a profession of which I now
saw that she could not have approved ; and I even
resolved to abandon it. But gradually my senti-
ments changed on this point. Though my heart
was full of affliction for the loss of that beloved
relative, I could not help thinking that she had
imbibed unfounded and unwarrantable prejudices
against that profession. I did not consider myself
imperiously called upon to surrender on that ac-
count a career which was already giving me fame
and a competency, and which would in time yield
me wealth ; and I likewise felt persuaded that if
my aunt had lived I could have succeeded in con-
vincing her that she entertained erroneous impres-
sions with regard to the life I had embraced.
Having passed all her years in provincial towns —
having been herself very carefully brought up by
her own parents— and entertaining strong notions
in respect to religion and religious duties — it was
not to be wondered at that she had conceived an
antipathy to the stage, — though during all the
time I had dwelt with her at Sheffield she had
never once suffered it to transpire. This was
doubtless the result of accident, inasmuch as the
secluded existence we led when I was there had
furnished no opportunity for the enunciation of
any opinion on the point. Therefore, as I have
just said, I conceived that it was a mere prejudice
on the part of my deceased aunt, and which could
easily have been overruled by the representations
I might have made.

The result of all this reasoning on my part was
a determination not to abandon a profession which
for me had become a sure and certain source of
subsistence, in order to plunge into the un-
certainties of other avocations. But now arose
the question— Should I reveal the whole truth to
my cousin ? On this point I knew not how to
act. I dislikea dissimulation; but it was equally
repugnant to my feelings to make a confession
that would shock his mind — perhaps add to the
bitterness of the affliction he was already ex-
periencing — and likewise render necessary an
argument for which his present mood was by no
means adapted. Hitherto I had breathed cot a syU

lable on the subject; nor had the circumstances at
the death-bed been made the topic of discourse
between us. I was therefore undecided how to
act at the time when Mr. Macdonald called and
made the proposals which I have described. I
should here perhaps add that although Henry and
his deceased mother were acquainted with the fact
that I was living with a family named Norman, it
had evidently never struck them that Mr. and
Mrs. Norman were the well-known actors : and as
for Juliet, to whom they believed I was a sort of
companion, she had been publicly known only as
Mademoiselle Delessert. Besides, they seldom saw
the London papers ; and even when they did catch
a glimpse of them, they had been by no means
likely to study the theatrical intelligence.

I now return to the thread of my narrative.
Henry sought me immediately after his interview
with Mr. Macdonald ; and he told me all that had
taken place. I listened with the deepest atten-
tion ; and in conclusion he said, " Now tell me,
my dear Ellen, — how shall I act ?"

I deliberated without immediately responding
to his query ; and he proceeded to add with
mingled kindness and diflSdence, " But unless you
yourself, Ellen, are happy in your home in the
metropolis, I will not think of leaving this country.
No, not for worlds! This home shall be your's—
and it would be a pleasure for me to toil for us
both !"

" Believe me, dear Henry — believe me," I said,
with much emotion, "my home is a happy one 1
Let no thoughts on my account militate against
your interests !"

" Then I will go, Ellen !" answered Henry,
'•' because I have found a friend in Mr. Macdonald
— and the advice of such a friend must be followed.
And now forgive me, dear cousin, for what I am

about to say but that money which my poor

mother has left— it is your's, Ellen 1 do not

require it — it may be of service to you "

" Nor do I need it," I answered. " No, my
dear Henry— I have no use for such a sum. Yet
your kindness will never be forgotten !"

"Kindness, Ellen?" he exclaimed. "Are you
Bot to me as a sister ?"

Scarcely had he given utterance to these words
when an idea seemed to flash across him ; and he
was full of confusion. Doubtless he recollected
that we were but cousins, and that the feeling
which he entertained towards me was different
from that which a brother would cherish for a
Bister, — a feeling too of which he was now abruptly
made aware for the first time. And I also was
filled with confusion ; and I felt the blushes glow
upon my cheeks.

"There is something I would say to you, Ellen,"
resumed Henry, in a faltering voice, ;is he took
my hand and pressed it ; " but after what has so
recently occurred in this house, it would be a de-
secration 1"

The tears rolled down his cheeks : but through
their dimness his handsome brown eyes looked
tenderly upon me ; and all his heart was revealed
as completely as if in the eloquence of language.
Again did the blushes glow upon my cheeks: I
was full of agitation and confusion ; and my hand
trembled in his own as he retained it in his clasp.
There was an instant when I was on the point of
proclaiming everything — the profession I had em-

braced, the fame I had already won, the brillianf;
prospects which were before me : but then a sud-
den revulsion of feelings took place— and I could
not give utterance to a syllable of such confession !
I flung upon him a glance— a single glance — which
doubtless was as eloquent as his own looks had
been to me; and wo understood each other — wo
comprehended that there was a mutual love— our
hearts were completely revealed — yet not another
syllable on the tender topic came from his lips,
and no word descriptive of my sentiments had
fallen from my own tongue !

When I retired to my chamber after this
scene, I again and again reasoned within myself
whether I had acted well in veiling the truth of
my profession from Henry Wakefield? But ngaiu
I asked myself wherefore I should distress hiia
with a revelation that would be premature ? Ho
was going forth into the world ; the range of his
experiences would become enlarged; as his grief
mellowed down into Christian resignation he would
gradually glide into the innocent recreations of
youth; and thus he would be brought to view the
worli in a new light. We should correspond with
each other; and I could gradually break to him
that which I dreaded to impart on a sudden. And,
Oh ! when he should come to learn that the
chaplet of fame encircled my brows, and that I
had achieved for myself a glorious repute and an
honourable renown amidst the great intellects of
the age, — and when at the same time he should
have the full conviction of my unblemished purity
and stainless character, — Oh ! would he not banish
all prejudice from his soul and feel exultant at the
success of her to whom his heart's fond love was
given? Yes: the secret must still be kept! — and
all the more so because that love of his was now
my choicest happiness : it should be to me as a
guide and a guardian— the angel of hope, soaring
in the atmosphere of my existence, and scattering
flowers from his brow and diamonds from his
wings upon the pathway of my life !

Henry communicated to Mr. Macdonald the de-
cision at which he had arrived ; and he proposed
in another week to set out upon his Atlantic
voyage. During this week my cousin's afilictioa
took the soft melancholy aspect of resignation ;
and it was evident that the love he experienced
for me, and the consciousness of being loved in
return, had infused the precious balm of solace
into his soul. We walked out together daily;
and though our conversation settled not even for
an instant upon the one topic which moved our
inward hearts, — yet did we both seem to have tho
intuitive, the simultaneous, and tho transfusing
consciousness that we were both thinking on tho
same subject. If we wandered into the fields,
Nature itself soemed full of love, — love that was
wafted in the sweet melody of birds, infusing into
the heart a mild subdued joy as sweetly pure aa
the harmony itself, and etherealising every thouglit
and feeling, — love that was borne on the winged
fragrance of every flower which gave its perfumo
to the breeze, — love in that very breeze itself, as
it kissed the leaves of shrubs and trees,— and lovo
in the murmurings of tlie crystal streamlet as it
reflected the beams of day and glided betwixt its
flower-gemmed banks.

But at length the day— the hour— for separa-
tiou came. We Lad agreed to quit that cottaga

ELLEN TEECT ; OR, THE MEM01E8 OF AIT ACTEE88.

at the saDje moment, — I to enter upon my jour-
aey back to the metropolis — Henry to repair to
his employer's establishment to receive the part-
ing instructions before he set out on his Atlantic
voyage. Yes — the moment of separation arrived ;
and as we looked at each other, we both compre-
hended that our hearts were making the strongest
efforts to keep back an outburst of the feelings and
avoid the aggravation of our mutual pangs. Then
over the quivering lips of the noble-hearted Henry
a soft smile broke ; and in the deep earnest eyes
— those handsome brown eyes which in my ima-
ginaUoa had elsewhere often looked upon me— a
high and holy lustre appeared to shine ; and never
upon female ear came a sweeter music of the mas-
culine voice than when he said, in a tone that was
nevertheless half-hushed and low, "Were it not,
Ellen, for the one hope that cheers me, I could
not eudure this separation !"

The tears started from my eyes ; and my hand,
which he had taken in his, was as tremulous as the
heart which was palpitating in my bosom. My
checks were blushing: but I did not cast down my
looks— fori had no false shame nor prudery in
acknowledging by those looks that I loved him,
and that his love was as much a sustaining hope
to me as it was to himself.

" Were it not, Ellon, that we are about to part,"
he continued, " I would not so soon after my ter-
rible bei-eavoment address you in such a strain.
But, Oh ! I feel that my sainted mother is looking
down and smiling upon us now ! For of an even-
ing, when my work of a day was over, and we sat
together in this little parlour, she would often
say what happiness it would bo for her if she
could have both of us with her, and that you,
Ellen, should have no need to earn your own live-
lihood elsewhere, I did not then comprehend the
full meaning of my mother's words ; but now I
understand it all ! And thus, Ellen, in plighting
our faith to each other we are fulfilling a wish that
my deceased parent cherished; and there is no
harm in the language in which I am addressing
you."

"There is no harm, Henry," I murmuringly re-
sponded ; " and rest assured that your image shall
alone occupy my heart— and when you return to
England "

" Oh, Ellen !" he exclaimed, " the separation
though but for a few months, appears to be an
age !" — and it was like a broken outcry that his
voice thus sounded upon my ears, tremulous and
wild, and full of the mournfuUest music.

I endeavoured to give some consolatory re-
sponse : but my own voice was lost in the sobs
that were convulsing my bosom.

" May all possible happiness attend you, dearest
Ellen, while I am away !" he continued, in a softer
and more collected tone; "and when we meet
again, it may perchance be with a prospect of soon
being united, no more to separate. And then —
Oh ! then, Ellen, I shall become the guardian of
your happiness; and rest assured that it will be in
good keeping ! So far as that happiness depends
upon me, believe me— Oh! believe me that the
•corroding lines of sorrow shall never mar the
smoothness of that pupe brow of thine ; nor from
those sweet eyes shall word or deed on my part
ever call forth a tear. I feel, Ellen, as if my lips
had so many things to express that a new lan-

guage would be necessary to give them utterance.
The words which I can command are poor and
incomplete to form the blessings which my soul
yearns to invoke upon your head !"

" And I, Henry, send up my prayers to heaven
to invoke all its mercies on your behalf! Success
will attend you in your career," I continued, in
tremulous and broken accents ; " for one so good
and noble-minded as yourself cannot fail to pros-
per."

We were both weeping : I sank upon his breast
— and he bestowed the parting kisses upon mo.
We separated: — and it seemed as if a veil — a veil
of stupendous darkness—had suddenly fallen upon
my eyes and shut out the sunlight from my
vision.

CHAPTER XVI.

EMBLEDON.

Amidst the thoughts which occupied me during
the first part of my journey homeward, were the
recollections of the scenes which had taken place
just before I left Londan. I allude to the mar-
riage' of Juliet with Lord Frederick Rivenselifife,
and all the misgivings that had filled my mind ia
respect to Mr. Croft. Mrs. Norman had informed
me that he held the curacy of Embledon— a village
in Warwickshire; and I was to pass through that
county on my way back to London. I had in the
first instance resolved, when questioning Mrs.
Norman relative, to Mr. Croft, to make some
secret inquiries with regard to him ; and my
original idea was to take the earliest opportunity
of procuring some Clerical Directory or Q-uide and
searching for his name. But now that I was
about to enter the very county in which he was
represented as residing, I deemed it more expe-
dient to institute personal inquiries on the point.
My time was ray own — I had an ample supply of
funds ; and a waste of a few hours or the expen-
diture of a few extra pounds were matters of no
consequence to me. Besides, being in mourning
for my deceased aunt, I could not immediately
resume my theatrical engagement ; and thus I
was in no immediate hurry to get back to the
metropolis.

It was in the evening when I reached Birming-
ham; and having ascertained that Embledon was
about twenty miles distant from that great manu-
facturing town, I took up my quarters at a hotel'
for the night. On the following morning I entered
a chaise and set out for Embledon; for I should
observe that at the hotel I was unable to obtain
any information relative to the name of the minis-
ter holding the curacy of the village to which I
was now repairing. At the next town to that
village I renewed my inquiry — but still without
receiving an answer which might have the efftict
of preventing me from continuing my journey any
further in that direction. Embledon, it appeared,
was a small, isolated, out-of-the-way place; and all
that was known at the town to which I have just
alluded was that a new curate had been recently
appointed at the village, but his name I could
not learn.

I therefore continued my way to Embledon;
and in due time I obtained from the brow of a

hill a glimpse of the little village, which was situ-
ated in the depth of a valley. It was embowered
in verdure : it did not seem to consist of more
than some twenty houses ; and above the wide-
spreading yew-trees the spire of the little church
peeped up. A rivulet meandered through the
viilafjo, and was crossed by a small bridge at its
entrance. Altogether the scene was picturesque,
as I thus caught the first view of it from the
chaise-window on the brow of the hill that the
vehicle was beginning to descend.

The road wound down into the valley, where it
crossed the rivulet by means of the bridge to which
I have just alluded. As the chaise approached
that bridge, I beheld an individual leaning listlessly
against the brick-parapet. Ho was dressed in
black — he was of tall stature : a thought flashed
to ray mind that he was the object of my visit;
and as he now slowly turned to look at the ap-
proaching equipage, I unmistakably recognised the
countenance of Mr. Croft.

I saw at the same time too that he recognised
me : and I was suddenly filled with contusion.
What explanation could I possibly give for my
visit to Embledon ? On this point I had not
reflected before ; nor had I many moments for re-
flection now, inasmuch as immediately on recog-
nising my face, Mr. Croft made a sign for the
postilion to stop ; and ho came up to the chaise-
window.

" Miss Percy," he said, in a voice which struck
me to be of constrained softness, while the affa-
bility of his rnanner likewise appeared to be forced,
— "I presume you have come to see me: for no
other object could possibly bring you to this out-
of-the-way place ?"

Thus speaking, he at once opened the door of
the chaise, let down the steps, and proffered his
hand to assist me to alight.

" You can go on to the public-house," he said
to the postilion, — thus taking upon himself a sort
of authority in the proceedings. " This young
lady has come to see me on particular business : I
will show her the way to the tavern when she
chooses to take her departure again."

All this was done so suddenly, and yet in such
a collected, business-like, off-hand manner, that I
was taken as it were by surprise ; and I yielded
mechauically to Mr. Croft's guidance. I therefore
descended from the vehicle, whi<;h immediately
drove awaj" ; and I remained alone with him upon
that bridge. He was dressed in black, as I have
already said ; and he wore a white cravat, — thus
far having the appearance of a clergyman: but
there was something slovenly in his toilet, and his
linen was not remarkably clean. Still I had no
doubt that he was really what he represented him-
self to be ; and now that I began somewhat to
recover from the confusion and bewilderment in
which the encounter had at first thrown me, my
next feeling was one of joy on Juliet's account.

"And now, tell me, Mies Percy," said Mr. Croft,
"what has brought you here? 1 hope no mis-
fortune nor accident has occurred to eitlier of
those whom I met the other day when you were
present. But this mourning that you wear "

" It is not for either of them," I answered : " it
is for a relative of my own :" — and the tears
trickled down my cheeks as the memory of my
deceased aunt was thus vividly conjured up.

" And might I inquire who this relative was ?"
asked Atr. Croft, as ho gazed intently upon ma
— yet not in a disrespectful luauuer ; but it was
rather with a mournful earnestness.

" My aunt — Mrs. WakeQeld," I responded.
"She recently died at Paisley— whence I have just
come."

Methought that Mr. Croft murmured some-
thing— but I co^lld not catch what it was ; and as
I contemplated his countenance, tho conviction
was once more strong in my mind that he <J.'as in
reality the stranger whom I had twice seen iit my
grandfather's house at Leeds, and of whose visit to
the late Mrs. Parks in Loudon I had subeequontly
become aware.

" And now tell me. Miss Percy," he continued,
" what has brought you to Embledon ?"

" "Will you tlrsb of all tell me, Mr. Croft," I in-
quired, looking him very hard in the face, " who-
tlier you ever saw me before you met ine the other
day at Lord Frederick Kavenseliffe's cottage in the
neighbourhood of Blackheuth ?"

" Yes, Miss Percy," he at once answered. "I
was in London some few weeks previous to that
occasion; and I beheld you make your debut in
the character of Portia. I know you therefore to
be that same Miss Traffurd who is already so
favourably known to the world."

This reply was given with an ingenuousness
wliich seemed so off-hand and so natural, that a
sudden change took place within me ; and I felt
convinced that I must be mistaken in supposing'
that Mr. Croft was identical with the stranger
whose presence had so excited my deceased grand-
fatlicr at Leeds, and concerning whom Mrs. Parks
had spoken to me in such disparaging terms.

" But why did you ask me that question i"
coiitiTiued Mr. Croft. " Surely," he added with a
smile, " you have not come all the way to Em-
bledon to put such a query ?"

" I feel the necessity of dealing frankly with
you," I now said, collecting all my thoughts for
an explanation which to a certain extent 1 saw
myself bound to give. " On the occasion when
we met the other day at the bridal ceremony, it
at once struck me that I had seen you before. In
my earlier years I lived at Leeds with my grand-
father, Mr. Forsyth ; and it was at his house that
I fancied I had thus seen you."

" 1 never wus a.t Leeds in my life," answered
Mr. Croft, with a countenance so unchanging, an
air so composed, and a manner so completely un«
ruffled, that I could not possibly disbelieve him.

'•It is therisfore evidently a. mistake on my
part," I said ; " and I hope you will pardon '-"

"There is nothing to pardon, Miss P.vcy," re-
joined Ml". Croft. " But on the other hand, you
may ? aturally suppose that my curiosity is now
somewhat excited "

"Then once more must I deal candidly with,
you, sir," I exclaimed, determined to tell the
truth : for indeed I saw no way of evading it.
" I beheld at Leeds that person to whom I have
alluded, and whom I mistook for you, under cir-
cumstances which led me to contemplate with
astonishment and mistrust the idea that he could
now possibly be exercising the duties of a minister
of religion."

" And therefore, Miss Percy," added Mr. Croft,
" you have come to Embledon to satisfy yourself

jn the point. And you now find me here; and
that is the church where my duties are performed ;
and that little cottage of which you catch a
glimpse amongst yonder trees, is my humble habi-
tation. If I have not asked you to enter it, it
was through no want of courtesy, but simply from
a feeling of delicacy inasmuch as there is no lady
within those walls to receive you."

All this was said in a tone which conveyed a
sense of so much propriety as well as truthfulness,
that Mr. Croft rose higher than before in my esti-
mation, and I felt that I had outraged him by a
Euspicious identification with the individual whom
Mrs. Parks had represented at the time as an evil-
intentioned man.

" Your own good sense," continued Mr. Croft,
" will tell you that the mistrust you have enter-
tained with regard to myself, might act materially
to my prejudice if you have elsewhere mentioned
the suspicions that have so evidently brought you
to Einbledon. Observe ! I am not blaming you —
I can understand full well that a feeling of friend-
ship on behalf of the Normans-has induced you to
take this step "

" Oh ! believe me, sir," I exclaimed, " I have
been guarded on the point ! 1 am incapable of
wilfully inflicting an injury; and though I have
acted upon a suspicion, yet I have not imparted
it."

" I thank you for this assurance, Miss Percy,"
replied Mr. Croft : " it is only what I should have
expected from one of your evidently generous dis-
position.— Ah ! and now I recollect, I left you in a
Bwoon at Lord Frederick's cottage. I was com-
pelled to depart hurriedly — immediately after the
ceremony ; and on the present occasion my Jlrst
question, instead of the last, ought to have been
in reference to the state into which your over-
wrought feelings had plunged you the other even-
ing ?"

I did not cbooae to inform Mr. Croft that the
Tery suspicion which now brought me to Emble-
don, was the one that had deprived me of con-
sciousness on the occasion of the bridal; and I
therefore briefly assured him that the indisposition
to which he had alluded was only transient.

" And now, Miss Percy," he said, " I will con-
duct you to the place where the post-chaise has
put up. But it is only a poor public-house, af-
fording no accommodation for a young lady, and
therefore my regret is all the greater that I cannot
invite you to partake of such hospitality as my
own humble habitation might afibrd."

I thanked Mr. Croft for his kindness — but as-
sured him that I neither needed rest nor refresh-
ment, and that I should at once set off on my re-
turn to Birmingham. He accompanied me to the
public-house, which was indeed as miserable a
place as he had described it, and which was situated
at the very entrance of the village, about a quarter
of a mile from the bridge. The only persons I
saw were a couple of dirty children at the door of
a cottage opposite — an old blear-eyed woman
throwing sand upon the floor of the diminutive
parlour in the public-house itself— and a still older
man (her husband) talking to the postilion, who
was partaking of some refreshment on a bench in
front of the miserable place. The old woman
however curtsied respectfully to Mr. Croft— the
old man rose and touched his hat ; and then the

ancient couple indulged in a good long stare a%
me. Mr. Croft took it upon himself to order the
postilion to harness the horses with the least pos-
sible delay ; and ho then conducted me into the
little parlour which the crone of a landlady had
been sweeping out. He conversed on general
topics; and all the while his voice flowed with
such softness that I never once caught a single in-
tonation to remind me of that rougher and harsher
voice which had belonged to the stranger for whom
I had taken this reverend gentleman.

In tea minutes the post-chaise was in readi-
ness : Mr. Croft handed me into it, and made a
courteous bow as it drove away. Perfectly satis-
fied with the result of my visit to Embledon, and
glad that I had paid it, I returned to Birmingham.
Thence I proceeded to London ; and on arriving
in Hunter Street, was most kindly welcomed by
Mr. and Mrs. Norman. I had written to them
from Paisley to inform them of my aunt's death :
they were not therefore surprised to behold me
return in mourning ; and they proffered their con-
dolences for the loss which I had sustained. I did
not acquaint them with my deviation from the
direct route in order to visit Embledoa: there was
no need to mention the suspicions which had taken
me thither. I found them in better spirits rela-
tive to Juliet than when I had left London ; for
they had received letters from her, and these an-
nounced that her happiness was complete.

It had been given out at the theatre, in the first
instance, that my sudden absence was caused by
the serious illness of a relation ; and subsequently
it was stated that the death of this relative would
prevent my immediate return to the boards. I
learnt from the Normans that Lady Lilla Essen-
dine had called twice to ascertain if intelligence
had been received concerning me; and two or
three days after my return, her ladyship's carriage
drove up to the door. Lilla, on being shown to
the drawing-room where I received her, embraced
me with every testimony of affection, and condoled
with me on my loss. She then proposed that as I
could not immediately return to the stage, I should
go and pass a few days with her. The invitation
was not altogether unacceptable : the Normans, as
I have already said, received a great deal of com-
pany and had many visitors ; I was as yet in no
frame of mind to mingle with society ; and at the
same time I did not wish to be a check upon the
usual pursuits of my friends. I therefore agreed
to Lady Lilla's proposal ; but I would not accom-
pany her in her carriage on that occasion : I pro-
mised to be with her on the following day or at
latest the day after.

My only reason for this delay was the necessity
of paying a visit to my milliner, and likewise of
making other purchases which the fact of my
being in mourning necessitated. These little mat-
ters were however settled more speedily than I
had expected ; and immediately after breakfast on
the following day I set out in the Normans' car-
riage for Claremont Villa. It was about eleven
o'clock when I reached my destination; and I
learnt that her ladyship, not expecting me thus
early, had gone out for a ramble. I was shown to
the chamber which I had occupied on the occasion
of my previous visit; and having put off my bonnet
and shawl, I descended to the parlour. Her lady-
ship had not as yet returned from her walk ; and

ELLEN PEKCTJ OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AS ACTRESS.

I went forth into the garden to meet her when
she should re-enter. In case the reader should be
at all surprised at the circumstance of my revisit-
ing Claremont Villa after the incidents which had
taken place there on the previous occasion, let it
be remembered that all the disagreeable suspicions
which in the first instance were engendered hy
the supposed identity of the handwriting, and by
the incidents connected with the gipsies, had been
ultimately set at rest by a larger experience of
Lady Lilla's kindness and by a closer study of her
character.

I walked forth, I say, into the garden ; and not
perceiving Lady Lilla, I bent my steps in the
direction of the shrubbery — thinking that she
might return by way of the back gate leading into
the lane ; for the servant had told me that her
mistress had gone out in her summer hat and in a
morning deshabilUe. I therefore knew that she
could not have proceeded far ; and I concluded
"So. 11.— Ellvk Fbsct.

also that her stepe would be directed along tho
seclusion of the shady lane. Scarcely, however,
had I entered the shrubbery, when my ear caught
the sound of voices at a little distance ; and the
next moment a break amongst the trees revealed
to me the two persons who were thus discoursing
together. Let the reader conceive my astonish-
ment when I beheld Edwin St. Clair walking with
Lady Lilla Essendine !

I myself was unperceivcd ; and I remained
rivetted to the spot whence I thus caught sight of
them. Her ladyship wore a large straw hat, as I
had been informed ; and her elegant morning
dress set off the exquisite symmetry of her shape,
although it fitted loosely to her form. Her coun-
tenance was towards me : I perceived that it was
flushed ; and that her cheeks, usually of alabaster
palenefls, had the vivid glow of excitement upon
them. Methought too that her large and beauti-
ful blue eyes were flashing fire from beneath the

ELIEN PEECY; OB, THB MEM0IE3 OF AS ACTEE83.

rich brown iashes; and the pearly teeth were
gleaming between the lips that were wreathing with
Bcorn or indignation, or some other feeling power-
fully stirred. I could not immediately catch a
glimpse of St. Clair's countenance : but I heard
him say in a cold voice, which also had a tincture
of contemptuous iudiflference in its accents, '• Let
it be war then, Lilla, if you will : — and perhaps it
was absurd of me to think of offering you peace."
They passed on ; and the nearest group of trees
concealed them from my view. I was about to
retreat towards the villa, when they immediately
re-appeared ; and as they had turned to pursue the
contrary direction, it was now Edwin St. Clair's
countenance that was towards me, while that of
Lilla was averted. He was speaking in a low tone,
but vehemently. There was an animation likewise
upon his countenance ; and then all in a moment
it gave place to that expression of sardonic wicked-
ness which I had on former occasions seen sweep
over it. He gesticulated— he appeared to be
threatening. Lady Lilla stopped short : she drew
her tall form up to its full height ; and at that
moment nothing could exceed the imposing ma-
jesty of her appearance. The carriage of the well-
shaped head on its straight alabaster column, the
upheaving of the superb bust, and the entire atti-
tude of that shape with its sweeping length of
limbs, had something statuesque which reminded
one of the effigy of an ancient goddess.

"■you speak to me of peace or war," I heard
her say in the silver clearness of her half-scornful,
half-indignant voice; "and you think perhaps that
I am to express gratitude for the patronising lan-
gui^ge in which you have addressed me P No,

Edwin St. Clair ! The day has gone by "

Here they reached a distance which prevented
me from catching the remainder of the sentence :
they were pacing to and fro in that little open
space in the midst of the shrubbery ; and as they
again returned, another fragment of Lady Lilla'e
speech was wafted to my ear.

" Peace or war ?" she was exclaiming, in evident
reiteration of those words which from his lips had
rendered her so scornful and so indignant : " it
were well indeed to propose to me peace if I were
a coward, and if I trembled at any consequences !
As for war, if you know aught of the character of
woman— if that bright intelligence of your's of
which, with all your affected disdain for the opinion
of the world, you are so proud— if, I say, by means
of that bright intelligence you have been enabled
to fathom the mysterious depths of the human
heart— surely, Edwin St. Clair, you must have
known that such an one as Lilla Essendine ■ "

Here again the speech was broken off so far as
my power of hearing was concerned ; and when
the two retraced their way, it was Captain St.
Clair who was addressing her ladyship.

" Nay, be it as you say, Lilla !" were the words
which my ear now caught. "Pursue this path
which you have sketched out for yourself! Frus-
trate me in all my designs "

"In your iniquities, Edwin!" ejaculated her
ladyship vehemently: and stopping short, she
looked him full in the face.

A scornful laugh rang forth from St. Clair's
lips : it was a laugh which resembled what ima-
gination might suppose to be the sardonic malice-
mirth of a fiend ; and though in itself vibrating

with the natural harmony of Edwin's voice, it
made me shudder and quiver all over. It was a
laugh which shocked and terrified my soul ! All
the human capabilities of mischief — all the evil
feelings and passions which could possibly concrete
in the heart of man — appeared to find expression
in that dread laugh. It was a horrible music, so
to speak — horrible as that which in Pandemonium
itself might ring forth a paean in praise of the
Prince of the fallen angels !

Shocked, dismayed, and horrified, I retreated
from my hiding-place and re-entered the villa. At
once ascending to my own chamber, I sat down and
gave way to my reflections. Bitterly did I regret
my revisit to a dwelling where it seemed as if I
was ever to be perplexed and tortured by mysteries
that inspired me with a poignant curiosity as well
as with the most painful sensations. Again did
the suspicion — strong and almost irresistible — come
back to my mind that Lilla herself must really
have been the authoress of that fragment of a letter
which I had seen at St. Clair's house; for that
there was some stupendous and portentous secret
subsisting between those two, I could scarcely
have any doubt. And yet, on the other hand, the
scorn and indignation with which she had treated
him — the power which she seemed conscious of
wielding over hitn — the authority and the virtuous
hauteur with which she had corrected him in his
speech when she seemed to declare that it was only
his iniquities which she sought to frustrate, — there
were these circumstances, I say, which compelled
me to hesitate ere I came to the conclusion that
Lilla herself was a guilty being, the victim of St.
Clair, and only for tbis reason his enemy.

I was in the midst of my reflections, when
I heard light footsteps on the gravel-walk just
underneath the window, which was open; and
glancing forth, I beheld Lady Lilla Essendine.
She caught a glimpse of my countenance; and
her own becoming animated with joy (I had not
been able to observe what its immediately previous
expression was) she exclaimed, " Ah, Ellen ! I am so
rejoiced that you have come !"

I hastened down stairs, — making up my mind
to veil as much as possible whatsoever unpleasant
thoughts or feelings were agitating within me ;
and the next moment I was strained in her arms.
There was something so warm in her embrace —
something so cordial in the tone with which she
greeted me— something so ingenuous, sincere, and
frank-hearted in the joy which my presence ap-
peared to occasion her, that I was again prepos-
sessed in her favour ; and when once more alone
with my own reflections, they assumed a different
aspect from that which they had so recently worn.
" How can I believe this amiable and beautiful
creature to be stained with crime? It were a
terrible libel upon the whole sex to conceive that
such fearful guile could be harboured in so angelic
a form ! She could not have been the authoress
of that fragment of a letter. But I understand it
all ! Inasmuch as St. Clair is the nephew of her
deceased husband, she respects the memory of that
husband too much to make an open exposure of
her knowledge of the misdeeds, whatsoever they
may be, that have been perpetrated by Lis sur-
viving relative. Yet, on the other hand, she is
resolved to frustrate, to the best of her power, any
fresh iniquities on his part. And it was for thit

ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 05 AN ACTRESS.

resson that she warned me against him ! Believ-
ing at the time my affections to be wavering
under the influence of his insidious power, she put
me on my guard against his unprincipled cha-
racter ! Nay, more !— well aware that he was
capable of any atrocity, she furnished me the
means of reducing him to abject submission !
But, Ah ! those means !"

And then I thought of the mystery of the
flower ; and it vividly brought back to my recol-
lection the incident of the gipsies : so that my
thoughts were again becoming bewildered and
painful to a degree that was almost intolerable ;
and in order to escape from them I hastened to
rejoin Lady Lilla Essendine and the visitors who
were at the moment in the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE PHIAL IK THE PIIiiaSEE CABB.

Theee was company at dinner that evening.
Some of the guests were of very lively and cheer-
ful dispositions : but out of respect for my mourn-
ing garb, there was no music nor singing. The
evening however passed away pleasantly enough ;
and my mind felt relieved of the weight which had
been left upon it by the incidents of the morning

" My dear Ellen," said Lady Lilla, in the most
affectionate manner, as we were about to separate
for the night, the guests having taken their de-
parture, " I am sorry that these friends of mine
should have come this evening : for I meant you
to experience at the villa that quietude and tran-
quillity which the house of your friends the Nor-
mans could not afford. But they dropped in
casually, as you perceived — uninvited — availing
themselves of the license of intimacy "

" Pray offer no apology, my dear Lilla," I an-
swered : for her ladyship had insisted that we
should call each other by our Christian names.
" I do not consider that there is any harm in a
little innocent recreation ; and I confess that the
society I have met this evening has improved my
spirits."

" I am rejoiced to hear it," answered her lady-
ship ; and having embraced me, she wished me a
good night's rest.

I ascended to my chamber, and began to disap-
parel myself. Lady Lilla had offered to place a
maid entirely at my disposal : but I was enabled
to dispense with any such services at my night-
toilet. I was therefore alone in my room ; and I
undressed slowly — for the thoughts of the morn-
ing came gradually stealing back into my mind.
At length I lay down to rest ; and sleep visited
my eyes.

How long I had slumbered, I knew not: but
as 1 gradually awoke, methougbt that sounds of
moaning or lamentation were being wafted to my
ears through the otherwise deep silence of the
night. This idea was at first vague and dreamy,
and seemed like the end of a vision that was slip-
ping out of my mind : but as I became more com-
pletely awake, the impression grew stronger. I
listened with suspended breath : there could now
be no farther uncertainty as to the reality of those

sounds. They were assuredly the meanings and
lamentations of one who seemed to be in deep
mental distress; and yet they were so faintly
audible that they would have been lost amidst the
various sounds which prevail in the day-time. It
was only now, in the profound stillness of tho
night, that they were thus perceptible to the ear.

I rose up to a sitting posture, and listened in a
sort of affright. The sounds ceased : I was reco-
vering my presence of mind— and was just saying
to myself that they must be the result of a dream
which, though forgotten, had left a certain im-
pression on my mind — when they recommenced.
What could be their cause ? from what quarter
could they come ? Lady Lilla's chamber was
situated on the opposite side of the landing, and
therefore exactly facing mine. The chamber
which intervened, in the front part of the house,
was a spare bed-room, and untenanted. There
was a back chamber on the same floor ; and this
was occupied by Lilla's lady's-maid. The other
servants slept upon the storey above. It certainly
might have been one of these domestics up-stairs
who was moaning and lamenting either in illness
or in a troubled dream : but still I was inclined to
fancy that it must be either Lady Lilla herself or
else her maid. At all events, I was determined
to ascertain; for these sounds continued.

Rising from my bed, I gently opened the door
and listened. The sounds were now somewhat
more audible; but still I could not distinguish
their source. I stole forth upon the landing, into
which the moonbeams dimly penetrated from the
staircase window ; and I listened at the door of the
maid-servant's chamber. I felt tolerably well
assured that the sounds came not from within
that room ; and I passed on with my naked noise-
less feet to the door of Lady Lilla's chamber.
Now the sounds were more audible ; and they de-
noted so much mental distress that I unhesita-
tingly opened the door. The wax-lights were
burning upon the toilet-table; the bed was unoc-
cupied ; the bedclothes were not disturbed : it was
evident that as yet her ladyship had not sought
her couch. Nor was she in the room. All this I
beheld at a glance. The next moment, however,
a side-door opened ; and Lady Lilla suddenly made
her appearance, — thus emanating from a place
which I believed to be her dressing-room, though
I had never been in it. I scarcely remembered
afterwards what was the expression of countenance
which she wore on thus abruptly coming into my
presence : but I fancied that it was a look of either
anger or affright, as if annoyed or terrified at
hearing her chamber-door open. But hastily
closing the door by which she had just emerged,
she exclaimed, " Good heavens, Ellen ! what is the
matter. Has anything disturbed yon? — have
I "

"Pardon this intrusion," I quickly responded;
" but I feared that you were ill. I heard sounds
of distress "

"Yes— I have been indisposed — indeed for a
short time I felt very very ill, and had a great
mind to call up the servants. But I am now
better; and I am truly sorry, my dear Ellen,"
added Lilla afi"ectionately, " that I should have
disturbed you. I was in hopes that though I
myself was suffering, you were enjoying the sweeU
of slumber."

:iXE5 PEiCT; OB, TffB KEMOrES OP AS ACTBESI.

" Ofa, whj did 70a not ■ammon me, LflU 7" I
peproariifially exdaimed. '^ It is kng paat mid-
nigfat," I eonUnned, glancing at the timqiieee
vhich VIS i^oQ tlie mantel of the degantly Cor-
vahed room; ''and joa haTe not jet been in
bed !"— for her ladjahip vas eompletdy d.caMid,
jost as die was when I had parted £rom her at
about half-past ten o'dodc

" I most hare eaten something that disagreed
with me^" die said : " bat I asnue joa that the
indiaposition is nov past. I fed mndi better."

■ T ■ ; :k Terj pale, XiUa "

iA, EUen, I assure joa that I am

r - ^ 1! Betom to joor chamber, my

I can sa£el J prumise not to distnb

I
bei.

and retntning to n^

Inimediatelj npon

I :r T £;d to LilU's

; i.It. Ifoan*
■ :rf. wb«nme-

-.zAti

part

d-:

bat I hare erer lored ingenioaB pieces of meefaaiw
ism of the deacriptum to vhieh I am alloding.

!nie dancing of the antomaton peasants waa
wont to eontiniie for some fisw minates after the
dock had finidird striking: and diece I stood ie>
garding them. While thus oeo^ied, my eyes
settled open a enrioas litde bottle which stood
dose by the do^ and which I did not remember
to have ever notieed before. It vas of the porest
crystal, exqnisitdy cot, and endoeed in alittle web-
like framework or filigree, of silrer beantifally
chased; and dssre was a cover of the same metal
orer the glass stopper. The phial, whidi was bardy
three inches in height was half fiiU ofa fliiid,dear
and eoloorles^ and looking indeed like the porest
water, althoagh I had no doobt that it was in re-
afi^ some dioiee perfome. In a wtxd, the ornament
was altogedier so beantifal that I coold not hdp
taking it 19 to inject it doaely — antil sodden-
ly reeolleeting tiiat I was intmding in a way that
m^fat now saroor of indiseretiaa, I replaced the
ornament opon the mantd, and glaaeed towards
die bed to see if LOla was stin dec^ng. Yes— she
: slnmbered on as sweetiy and seroidy as before:
' the doming of the timepiece had not distorbedhcr.

I ^'.Ided forth noisdesdy from the room— doaed the
i : r with all possible gentlenem— and retomed to

II - : ^Tt! chamber, well pleased at having mtisfifd
1^7 : lat Lady Lilla had evidently recovered
; - 7 indijp jsition experimeed daring the

■eatf4st.table,l did not

: } her room that

iisry. She now

1-: 'fiilad not to

:-■ --; 5 the night;

-t;_i. ;-:,_-" :_; i..^ii .: r3:>aning and

rsss iiad caiied me from mycooch and my

iz:ber.

'^■.■.''-. breakfast we wsDced together in the gar-
fir an hoar or two : we then entered the par-
::^i :t work until londieoD tame. After
r rfreshmen^ we ascended to our le-
ers to dress for an airing in the
:oilei^ being simile— as I was in
^: soon performed; and I was shoot
die room, when I heard hasty fbot-
u^b of steps approaching the door, at which some one

-;; ; j ^ ImnAflii in > qoigk ami eri-itpJ m«nni»r- I imme-

, diatdy answered the sommona ; and Lilla's lady's-
. r^aid, who hxAed Teiy pale and agitated, ex-
>:::ed, "For heaven's sake come qui^ Miss
--.:-•'. My lady is in a dead swoon!"

: f : to IdlU's chamber, and found her lying

; 1 -^ r bed, slietched oat like a eorpee, and as

It subseqoently appeared that

.2 the midst tX. ha t<Mlet^ she had

-^^■z^\ with this fit; and on being

:3 the bed, she had become

L-c

L.ir L.

.itile salts — hartdion

exdaimed to the maid,

'.i'. in bewilderment.

- .1:5 ran for the siir«

, Swiss loreiiead,— bar;
7 part pillows. Then
_; - . i eddasmarfofe;

orders. I

::55 LilU's

- with

SLL£K PBRCr; OB, THE MEMOIES 05 A» ACTEBS3.

panied by another female domeBtic, bringing the
restoratives that I had asked for. In a few mi-
nutes Lady Lilla began to show signs of life ; and
she gasped painfully as the lungs resumed their
play,

" We require a more powerful restorative !" I
exclaimed. "This vinegar is poor! — these salts
have lost their pungency ! Surely there must be
something here ?"

I sped to the toilet-table ; but found nothing
that I thought of any use.

" In the dressing-room perhaps ?" I cried, now
hastening to that door whence I had seen Lady
Lilla emerge during the previous night.

"Dressing-room, Miss?" said the maid. "That
is not a dressing-room."

" Then what is it ?" 1 asked, in astonishment ;
and my fingers grasped the handle.

" I don't know. Miss," replied the maid. " I
have never been in it."

The handle had already turned in my grasp :
but the door itself was locked— and the key was
not in it. For a moment I was smitten with pro-
found surprise at the singularity of the young
woman's observation: but Lilla's condition was
such as speedily to absorb all other considerations.
She was recovering, it is true : but I saw the ne-
cessity of applying strong restoratives in order to
prevent a relapse before the surgeon should arrive.
I should here observe that a beautiful little
spaniel of the King Charles breed, and which was
a great pet with her ladyship, had found its way
into the room; and with that peculiar instinct
with which dogs are inspired, it was moaning near
the foot of the bed, as if it were conscious of an
approaching death. The circumstance alarmed
me ; and I saw the two maids exchange ominous
looks as if they thought that it was all over with
their mistress.

"Oh, for some powerful restorative!"! exclaim-
ed; "some strong perfume — some essence "

"There's lavender-water and there's eau-de-
Cologne on the toilet- table," said the lady's-maid.

" Something stronger !" I ejaculated ; and my
eyes swept around the chamber. " Ah ! I wonder
what this is P" — and I snatched up the bottle in
the filigree case from the mantel.

" I do not know what it is, Miss," responded
the maid. " I do not remember ever to have seen
it there before to-day."

" It is some strong perfume, I have no doubt,"
I said. " It is hermetically fastened : it cannot
possibly have lost its power !"

While thus speaking, I was unscrewing the
silver top ; but this was by no means an easy task
•—for it fitted very tight, and did not appear to
have been recently removed. But in less than a
minute it was off; and then I endeavoured to take
out the glass stopper. This proceeding was equally
difficult; and for more than another minute I
despaired of effecting my purpose. Fortunately
however Lady Lilla was now rapidly recovering.
She opened her eyes, and gazed vacantly around
her. At that instant I succeeded in extracting
the glass stopper ; and I was on the very point of
applying the bottle to Lady Lilla's nostrils, when
Bhe seemed to give a sudden and violent convulsive
■tart, so that by the quick movement of her arm
•he dashed the phial from my hand.

The glass was shattered to pieces; and Lady

Lilla Essendine fell back into a deep swoon
again.

" The excitement of recovery was too much for
her. Miss !" said the lady's-maid : " how convul-
sively she tosses her arms about !"

I now hastened to apply the lavender-water
and the eau-de-Cologne which I had previously re-
jected ; and in a few minutes Lilla again displayed
signs of life. Her recovery was slow, but gradually
sure ; and on regaining her consciousness, she en-
deavoured to say something to mo— for her lips
moved and she was visibly struggling for the power
of utterance. I implored her to be tranquil : me-
thought there was a strange wildness now succeed-
ing the vacancy of her look on first opening her
eyes this second time — but if so, it quickly passed
away,

" A thousand thanks, dear Ellen," she at length
feebly murmured, "for your kindness! But did
I dream ? or was there something broken ?"

" I deeply regret," I answered, " that tho
pretty little glass ornament should have been
destroyed. I thought it contained some strong

perfume But the silver case is safe !"

"Yes, yes — it did contain perfume !" interjected
Lilla. "Never mind the accident, Ellen. I feel
much better now:" — and she made an effort to
rise from her couch.

" Bemain here a little longer," I said : then
turning to the domestic who had accompanied the
lady's-maid to the room, I bade her sweep up tho
broken glass; for I had just accidentally trodden
upon it, while picking up the filigree case : and I
was fearful lest it might cut Lilla's flesh when she
should descend from the bed, as she had no shoes
on — only the white silk stockings upon her exqui-
sitely shaped feet.

The command was immediately obeyed ; and the
glass was swept carefully up. Lilla now bade the
two maids retire, as she wished to remain alone
with me. In a few minutes she rose and sat upon
the sofa. I gently inquired if she were subject to
such fits : hut she assured me that she had never
experienced one before; and then I recollected
that the maid had appeared too much bewildered
to be accustomed to scenes of this kind. I again
apologized for the accident in respect to the bottle :
but I pointed to the filigree case which I myself
had placed upon the mantel, and assured her that
it was uninjured. She begged me not to think
any more of the occurrence, for that it was a trifle
not worth an apology. In a few minutes tho
lady's-maid ascended to say that the surgeon had
arrived : but Lady Lilla declined to see him, de-
claring that she was now well enough to dispense
with his services. She thought that an airing
would do her good ; and we accordingly descended
to the carriage, which was in waiting.

Her ladyship was accustomed to take the pet
dog with her when riding out into the country :
but on reaching the hall, we observed that tho
animal was not following as usual. I now remem-
bered that it was in the bed-chamber during her
ladyship's swoon ; and I fancied that it must havo
been shut in there. I accordingly volunteered to
run up and fetch the little spaniel while Lilla en-
tered the carriage. On ascending to her chamber,
I called the dog ; but it did not make its appear-
ance. I was about to leave tho room, when my
eye caught sight of sonvrtJiing which was half con-

ELXEN PKRCT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESg.

waJed by the drapery which hung around th«
hlitir paurt of the bed. I thruit it aside — and b«-
hM the poop dog lying dead.

A snatched it up to satisfy myself that life WM
indeed esticct ; and on finding that it was so, I
was greatly distressed ; for I knew what a fa-
vourite the little animal was with Latly Lilla Essen-
dine. Taking it with me, I descended the stairs,
and showed the dead animal to her ladyship. Al-
though I had expected that she would be much
afflicted, yet I certainly was not prepared for so
great an effect as that which the incident produced
upon her. Her naturally pale countenance became
60 deadly white that methought she was about to
swoon again ; and for several moments she gasped
as if battling co-vnlsively against the sensation of
returning faintnt,■^.3. I quickly gave her a bottle
of volatile salts, which I had brought with me as a
precaution; and it suddenly seemed to revive her.
She however insisted on seeing the poor dog buried
under a rose-tree in the garden before we set out
for our drive ; and this was speedily accomplished
by the footman.

Tor the remainder of that day Lady Lilla con-
tinued dull and languid ; and when night came I
begged that she would permit me to sleep with her,
or that she would allow her maid to occupy the
sofa in the room. But she would not accede to
cither of these requests, and all I could elicit from
her was a promise that she would not hesitate to
call me if she felt the least indisposed during the
night.

When alone in my own chamber, I remembered
for the first time since the occurrencfe of the inci-
dents, that strange answer which the lady's-maid
had given me in respect to the place adjoining her
mistress's chamber, and which I had until then
fancied to be a dressing-room. As I have already
said, I had on a few previous occasions been in
Lady Lilla's chamber, but never in that little inner
room : nor did I recollect that I had ever once
seen the door open except during the preceding
night when LiUa emerged thence. But then I had
not so much as caught a glimpse of the interior of
that room, for she had immediately closed the door
behind her. Without being at all prone to attach
undue importance to events that might be trivial,
nor to envelope them in a mystery suitable only
for the pages of a romance, — I nevertheless could
not help thinking that there was something strange
in the fact that Lilla's own maid should not have
access to a place that would at least want occa-
sional sweeping and cleansing, even though it was
without an article of furniture. I have spoken of
it as a little room, because by the configuration of
the house and the position of the adjacent chambers
(Lilla's and the spare bed-room) I could form a
tolerably accurate idea of its dimensions. It was on
the side of the house, and had a window at which
I remembered to have observed from the outside
that there were red curtains with broad yellow
binding. With such handsome draperies it was
scarcely to be supposed that the little room was
otherwise unfurnished ; and therefore if it were
furnished, did it not require the occasional care of
a domestic P

These questions I asked myself; and trivial
though they may seem, they nevertheless bewil-
dered me. I liked Lady Lilla — I may say that I
loved her ; for she was a sister in her kindness to-

wards me. How I hated, therefore, all these myi-
teries, great or insignifioant, which at crery point
appeared to invest the circamstanoes attending
her! But still I thought to myself I was foolish
to attach such importance to this new mystery of
the room which always remained locked : for who
could tell but that the solution thereof, if known
to me, would be as simple as that of the riddle
which puzzles one for a moment, but which when
solved, makes one almost angry with one's-self for
not having guessed itP Perhaps that room was a
sort of sanctum where Lilla kept valuable jewels or
family relics, which she did not choose to be inter-
fered with or inspected by her servants P Still my
curiosity was piqued; and while again wishing
that no mystery of any kind attached itself to a
being in whom I felt so deep an interest, I sank
into slumber.

A week passed without any incident worthy of
the slightest note ; and during this interval Lady
Lilla Essendine recovered her wonted health and
spirits. But before I continue the thread of my
narrative, I should remark that we had discoursed
together on the death of the favourite little dog;
and Lilla expressed her belief that the instinct of
the faithful animal had made it aware that she was
in a very dangerous state at the time, and that it
had died of sheer grief. She opened a volume of
natural history to illustrate her argument by seve-
ral extraordinary instances of canine fidelity ; and
I therefore arrived at the same conclusion as that
which she had already formed.

I have said that a week passed since her lady-
ship's illness; and during this period I called upon
the Normans, who had received fresh letters from
Juliet. . There was likewise one for me; and the
tenour of all of them argued most favourably for a
belief in her perfect happiness. I called likewise
upon Melissa Harrison, whose health was by this
time somewhat improved, — though she despaired
of complete recovery ; and she was forbidden the
hope of returning to the stage. I compelled her
to accept pecuniary succour from me ; and nothing
could exceed the gratitude of the unfortunate
young woman.

The incident which I am about to relate, oc
curred during the night of the day following my
visit to Miss Harrison. Lilla and I had dined
alone together; and a little before eleven o'clock
we retired to our respective chambers. I soon fell
■asleep ; and my slumber, as it subsequently trans-
pired, had lasted about two hours when I was
startled up by that alarm which next to the cry of
" Murder !" is the most terrible ot all cries :
namely, that of " Fire !" For a moment I thought
it must be merely a v«-ild dream : but the next in-
stant that hope was banished ; for there was the
quick rush of footsteps overhead— and the voice of
the lady's-maid was shrieking forth the dire alarm
upon the landing. I rushed from my chamber ;
and at the same moment Lady Lilla Essendine
made her appearance on the other side. The ter-
rible truth was quickly ascertained ; the draperies
of the lady's-maid's bed were in a blaze : the foolish
young woman had been reading by candle-light—
and had fallen asleep, only to awake to find her
room in a conflagration !

The men-servants, having huddled on a few
clothes, rushed to the burning chamber in the
hope of extinguishing the fire : but they quickly

ELLEK PBECT; OB, THE MEM0IS3 OB AS ACTEES8.

announced that the attempt would be vain — for
that the flames had caught the ceiling. It there-
fore became necessary for every one to think of
safety ; and never perhaps in all my life were my
own garments more expeditiously put on. The
same was the case with Lady Lilla Essendine, as
well as with the other inmates of the house; and
then began a scene of indescribable bustle, not un-
mingled with confusion. I rushed down into
the garden, with my writing desk containing my
jewels : Lady Lilla had also possessed herself of
her own valuables of the same description. One
of the men-servants had rushed off to fetch the
nearest fire-engine : the other was busily employed
in getting the horses and carriages out of the
stables. The female servants were bringing forth
all portable articles of furniture, ornaments,
nick-naeks, and plate, from the ground-floor apart-
ments. Two or three policemen were speedily
upon the spot ; and they rendered most efBcient
assistancfe in carrying out the furniture upon the
lawn.

The upper part of the house was speedily in a
blaze ; and it was a considerable time before the
fire-engines arrived. Many gentlemen from the
villas in the neighbourhood came to the spot ; and
we received the kindest offers of hospitality. As
for the maid who was the cause of the accident,
she was a prey to so wild a grief that she could
scarcely assist in bringing out such articles as it
was possible to save.

When the engines came they began playing
vigorously upon the conflagration; for as there
was a well in the coach-house an ample supply of
water was afforded. The wind was in such a
direction that the flames were carried chiefly to-
wards the point where my chamber had been
situated, — though Lady Lilla's was also on fire.
But still it was the first-mentioned part of the
dwelling which suffered first, and likewise most
— as will presently be made apparent. Her lady-
ship, I should observe, displayed the utmost pre-
sence of mind ; and we both of us helped in re-
moving the articles in the ground-floor rooms,
until the fire spreading thither rendered it im-
possible to return into the devoted edifice.

Several of those neighbours— who, as I have
already said, made their appearance upon the spot
—pressed her ladyship and me to retire from the
scene and seek refuge in one of their houses. But
the autumnal night was not cold enough to compel
us to follow this counsel ; and as Lady Lilla per-
sisted in remaining in the garden to see the issue
of the calamity, I of course kept her company.
Three engines had arrived: but they came too late
to save the villa from an almost complete destruc-
tion. For two hours did the conflagration last —
the flames during the second hour battling as it
were against the jets of water for the mastery.
The fire spread to all the outhouses ; and at one
time the heat was so intense that the lookers-on
were compelled to retire to a considerable distance.
At length the devouring element was subdued in
every point except in Lilla's own chamber and the
room above it, from the windows of which the
lambent fire was still gushing forth. All of a
sudden there was a tremendous crash : a dense
volume of black smoke rolled upward: the roof
had fallen in — the fire was crushed. The engines
however continued to play for some little while

longer upon the ruined building, until the firemen
were satisfied that their labours were no longer
necessary.

It was too dark for us to discern the full extent
of the damage wrought ; and now Lady Lilla no
longer refused the proposal that we should take
refuge elsewhere. Several offers of hospitality
were made us, as I have already stated : but her
ladyship selected that of the gentleman to whom
the nearest villa belonged;— and thither we re-
paired. Without entering into any unnecessary
particulars, suffice it to say that by this gentleman
and his wife (an elderly couple without any family)
we were treated with the utmost kindness; and
accommodation was likewise afforded to her lady-
ship's three female domestics, — the men-servants
proceeding with the horses to the York and Albany
Tavern at Camden Town,

Although I retired to rest, I could not close my
eyes in slumber, so great was the excitement which
I experienced. Therefore, having for some three
or four hours tossed sleeplossly upon my pillow, I
rose and dressed myself. The house where we had
found such hospitable refuge, was only about two
hundred yards from Claremont Villa ; and I issued
forth to visit the ruins. Thinking that Lady Lilla
Essendine had nut as yet left the chamber which
had been assigned to her, I did not inquire for her
—but proceeded alone to our recent habitation,
A police- officer was there in charge of the nume-
rous articles of furniture which had remained
upon the lawn ; and the gardener was contemplat-
ing the spectacle of the ruins with a rueful coun-
tenance, I beheld no other persons : but the gar-
dener hastened to inform me that Lady Lilla
Essendine had just passed in amidst the scene of
devastation.

I sped to join her — and quickly crossed the
threshold of the doorway, from which the door
itself had been burnt down. The outer walls
were standing — some of the partition walls like-
wise : but the greater portion of the floors and
roof were consumed or had fallen in. Nearly
every window was burnt out : and I could not help
shedding tears at this first glance at the wreck
and skeleton of a dwelling which a few hours back
was so elegant and perfect in all its appointments.
I may here observe that Lady Lilla's furniture
was insured to its full value : the house was a hired
one, and likewise insured; so that in a pecuniary
sense her ladyship had no reason to apprehend
any loss.

I entered amongst the ruins, and speedily dis-
covered Lilla. She was standing in the midst of
a ground-floor apartment which had served as the
dining-room, and precisely above which her own
chamber had been situated. She was motionless
as a statue, gazing upward through a vast aper-
ture in what had been the ceiling of the diniug-
room and consequently the floor of the bed-
chamber. She did not immediately become aware
of my presence ; and I mechanically looked up in
the same direction towards which her own eyes
were raised, I could scarcely repress an ejacula-
tion when all in a moment the mystery of that
little room which had joined her own chamber
was revealed. For the door had been burnt out
of its setting; the-floor in the immediate vicinage
existed no longer ; and a large portion of the wall
of the inner room itself bad fallen. Everything

ElLEir PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIKS OP AH ACT*a9«.

ia that room could be distinctly discerned ; the
devouring element had exposed that which my
own conjectures never could have fathomed if I
had lived for a thousand years !

That little room concerning which I had so be-
wildered myself with surmises, had been elegantly
fitted up as an oratory, or private chapel, with all
the appurtenances suitable to the Boman Catholic
faith. There was an altar, surmounted by a
crucifix : there were tall silver candlesticks— but
the candles that were in them (if any at the time)
had as a matter of course melted away by the
heat of the fire. In front of the altar there was a
footstool of crimson velvet ; and a rosary was sus-
pended against the wall. There had evidently
been several small pictures in that room : for the
frames were still hanging there, though the canvass
was scorched out of them. The flames themselves
had however scarcely touched the interior of the
little chapel — as was evident from the state of pre-
servation in which were the appointments that I
have enumerated.

My surprise was great ; though the solution of
the mystery relative to that little room was, after
all, simple enough. I knew that Lilla was a
Eoman Catholic : but I could not possibly have
suspected her to be such a devotee to her creed as
to h ive a private oratory in her dwelling for her
own special devotions. At the same time it was a
circumstance which made me think all the better
of her : for though myself a Protestant, yet I
could not do otherwise than respect the strong
religious feeling conscientiously experienced by
another.

For some minutes did I gaze up at that oratory
which the conflagration had laid bare rather than
destroyed, and which indeed the flames had spared
more than any other portion of the building. Her
ladyship at length became aware of my presence ;
and she started on perceiving ine. But the next
instant she took my hand with her usual kindness,
— saying, " You have come, like me, my dear Ellen,
to gaze upon the ruins of that which was so re-
cently a pleasurable dwelling !"

" I did not know that you were here," I an-
Bwered somewhat confusedly; "or else I should
not have intruded "

"It is no intrusion, my dear friend," she re-
sponded : and then with a look of solemn awe,
and even methought with a species of vague terror,
she added, " Look ! the fire has spared that place
of private worship. Is it not miraculous? is it
not a sign——"

But she stopped short; and I gave no answer.
I did not choose to ofiend her prejudices or wound
her religious feelings by explaining that what she
regarded as a preternatural marvel was nothing
more than the result of accident — the wind havinj
blown in a particular direction, and thus spared
that end of the building until it was not too late
for the fire-engines to rescue the interior of the
oratory from complete destruction.

" You must not think, Ellen," continued Lady
Lilla, who during a brief interval of pensiveness
did not seem to notice that I had given no answer
to her previous observation—" you must not think,
Ellen, that I am ashamed of the creed in which
I have been brought up and to which I cling: but
even in this most enlightened country there are
prejudices— and if it were known that contiguous

to my own sleeping-chamber I had a place of
worship thus fitted up "—and she glanced towards
the oratory — " the servants would make it a sub-
ject for their idle gossip— the neighbours would
talk ■■ In a word, Ellen," added Lilla, hastily,
" you must agree with me that it waa better to
have maintained all that privacy 1"

I was spared the necessity of giving any an-
swer, as well as the embarrassment of remaining
silent, by the appearance of the gardener amongsc
the ruins : but upon observing us both together,
and fancying that we were in earnest discourse,
the man was about to retire. Lady Lilla however
bade him remain ; and she ftt once proceeded to
issue certain orders.

" Procure a ladder and a trunk without delay,"
she said : " place in the trunk whatsoever articles
you consider to be worth saving :" — and she
pointed towards the oratory. " The table which
is covered by the cloth" — thus alluding to the
little altar—" you can likewise bring down. Do
all this immediately ; and — and — it is by no means
necessary to gossip amongst your companions con-
cerning these things."

Thus speaking. Lady Lilla placed a sovereign
in the gardener's hand ; and we quitted the ruins
of Clare mont Villa.

It happened that in the very same neighbour-
hood a newly-built, commodious, and pleasantly
situated house was to let; and in the course of
that day Lady Lilla Essendine took the lease of it.
Instructions were at once given to her upholsterer ;
and in the evening of the third day after the con-
flagration of one dwelling we partook of our first
dinner in another. I had at the outset offered to
return to Hunter Street, for fear lest my presence
should be embarrassing to her ladyship in making
her new arrangements: but she had begged me to
remain with her ; and the worthy couple who had
aflbrded us an asylum, overwhelmed us with as-
surances that they were only too glad of our com-
pany to be anxious to part from us. I had there-
fore remained, as I have said, in her ladyship's
company ; and on removing with her to the new
home, I rendered all possible assistance in placing
the house in proper order.

CHAPTEE XVIII.

THB BBUIB-TAKBB.

A POETSIGHX passed after Lilla's installation in
her new residence ; and I was now to bid her fare-
well. Juliet had returned to Hunter Street, the
Continental trip with her husband being over;
and according to previous arrangement, as I have
already informed the reader, she still passed as
Miss Norman instead of adopting her title of Lady
Frederick Bavenscliffe.

I took an affectionate leave of Lilla, promising
to visit her again shortly ; and on reaching my
home— as I considered the Iformans' house to be—
I was delighted to find Juliet in the best possible
spirits, and also looking most superbly handsome,
with the glow of health and happiness on her
cheeks. The separation from Lord Frederick wat
compensated for by the pleasing novelty of finding
herself once again beneath the paternal roof; and

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS,

besidcB, it was agreed that the young nobleman
should visit her as often as prudence would permit.
"When we were alone together, she assured me that
nothing could exceed the affectionate tenderness
and devoted love with which Lord Frederick had
treated her ; she had every proof of his amiable
disposition and goodness of heart; and with all the
gushing enthusiasm of her soul's most impassioned
feelings, she sketched forth plans for the future,
and spoke in rapturous prophecy of the unalloyed
bliss that would be her's when the time should
come that the marriage might be proclaimed to the
world.

Another week was yet to elapse before the date
at which I had undertaken to make my reappear-
ance upon the boards; and in the meanwhile Mr.
Eichards, with the true enterprising spirit of a
manager, had purveyed other attractions for the
public. Amongst these — or indeed, I ought to
baj, the principal one consisted of an exhibition
Jfo. 12.— Ellex Peect.

of wild beasts in the care of a brute-tamer. The
brute-tamer called himself Captain Chalmers of
the Bengal Native Cavalry ; and he had published
a book crowded with the most wonderful exploits
and adventures in respect to wild beasts, enormous
serpents, alligators, and crocodiles. Of all theso
startling narratives he himself was the hero; and,
according to bis own account, no human life bad
ever passed scathless through so many hideous
perils and horrible dangers as his own. How
often had he escaped from the fangs of ravenous
tigers or from the coils of monstrous snakes in the
jungles of Hindostan ! To how slender a thread
had his existence frequently hung when menaced
by huge anacondas amidst the luxuriant foliage of
Ceylon! — what frightful nocturnal adventures had
he experienced with black panthers in Java 1 —
and how desperate were the combats which he had
waged with lions at the Cape of Good Hope ! Oa
the banks of the Nile his agility in circuitous

»0

BIXEK PEECT ; OB, XHE MEMOIES OF JlN ACXEE8S.

running, or else his wondrous skill in aiming with
the rifle at so small an object as a crocodile's eje,
had saved him over and over again from affording
a meal to the rapacious reptiles of that species;
and in the backwoods of America he had led huge
shaggy bears such a dance up and down trees that
he had well wearied them out before he ended the
sport by means of the trusty rifle which had so
often stood him in good stead. In a word, the
volume which he had published, and of which his
bookseller had sold many thousands, was well cal-
culated to throw the startling adventures of that
veracious nobleman, Baron Munchausen, completely
into the shade.

All this did very well for the public ; and Mr.
Eichards, the lessee, was rewarded by crowded
houses for the enterprising spirit which had in-
duced him to engage the services of Captain Chal-
mers. Beneath the surface, however, there were
some little secrets which were known to Mr.
Eichards— and which Mr. Eichards whispered over
a confidential glass of port to Mr. Norman— and
which Mr. Norman mentioned in an equally con-
fidential way within the range of his own family
circle. Truth therefore compels me to add that
Captain Chalmers was no captain at all, and that
in former times he had passed under other names,
so that it was not a very easy matter to determine
which was his proper one. As for his marvellous
adventures, they had existed only in the imagina-
tion of some poor author who for the sum of fif-
teen pounds sterling had compiled the book in the
reading-room of the British Museum. That Cap-
tain Chalmers — as I must continue to call him —
was however a famous brute-tamer was an un-
doubted fact ; and that he ventured into the cage
containing ten or a dozen beasts of the savage
kind, was a feat witnessed nightly by crowded
houses.

On the last evening of the Captain's engagement
at the theatre, I agreed to accompany Juliet —who,
as the reader will recollect, had retired from the
stage previous to her union with Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were engaged
to appear in the piece that was expressly written
for the introduction of the famous brute-tamer ;
and they therefore could not join us in the stage
box which Mr. Eichards had placed at our dis-
posal. Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe however ac-
companied us; and on taking our seats in the
box, we found that the house was as well filled as
on the nights of my own performance. But my
pride was not at all wounded by this circumstance :
for my own good sense told me that the theatrioal-
going public, as well as the individual, must have
a variety of pleasures, and that it is in this very
variety the chief enjoyment of them consists.
Nevertheless, I have seen actors and actresses—
the most eminent of their profession — who have
felt themselves bitterly galled and even been ready
to weep like children, at finding that wild beasts,
or horsemanship, or exhibitions of dwarfs or
giants, have drawn houses as good as their own
performance. But on these and other theatrical
subjects I may perhaps have more to say in the
progress of my narrative.

In due course the scene arrived in which Cap-
tain Chalmers was to appear with his tamed
beasts. "When the curtain drew up, it disclosed a
cage of considerable dimensions, standing upon the

stage. It had stout iron bars, and appeared strong
enough to serve as the prison-house for the ani-
mals it contained. These consisted of a tiger, a
bear, a hyena, a lion, and six or seven other
beasts the names of which I have forgotten. The
Captain himself was a singular-looking man, and
far from prepossessing. He had a bullet-shaped
head, with a stock of black hair which gave him
the effect of wearing a wig. His form was mus-
cular and well-knit ; and his countenance ap-
peared to have an expression of the most reso-
lute firmness. His principal garment was a close-
fitting doublet, or jerkin: his arms were bare;
and by their size seemed to be very powerful. I
should add that he wore a short dagger in his
belt.

I need not enter into any particular details to
describe by what dramatic fiction the brute-tamer
was introduced upon the scene. Sufiioe it to say
that it was an oriental piece, the imagination
being led to suppose that the adventures passed in
India, where an English ofiicer, represented by
Captain Chalmers, was audacious enough to aspire
to the hand of a great Eajah's daughter. This
Eajah swore that the daring suitor should become
food for his wild beasts ; but he was also led to
vow that if by any happy chance the hero passed
unscathed through the dread ordeal, his hopes
should be crowned with bliss. Such was tLe
leading incident of the drama which was to intro-
duce Captain Chalmers into the cage in the pre-
sence of the spectators. Although I knew that
the exhibitor had over and over again entered
that cage, yet I confess that when I beheld
the beasts protruding their terrific claws through
the bars, or yawning and displaying their
tremendous teeth, a cold sense of apprehension
crept over me. There was a somewhat lengthy
dialogue between the hero and the Eajah
previous to the introduction into the cage ; and
during this interval some of the animals either
frolicked or quarrelled with each other— I could
not precisely comprehend which ; but if it were
merely play, it was certainly a very rough game.
For they not merely indulged in mutual snarls and
bowls — but they clawed and snapped at each othir
— they flew round and round the cage — then one
sprang upon another, threw him down, and strode
over him, while their mouths were brought into
what appeared to be a very savage contact. Juliet
was frightened as well as myself: but Lord Fre-
derick Eavenscliffe assured us that it was only the
play of those animals.

At length the moment came when Captain
Chalmers was to enter the cage ; and it was with
lightning rapidity that he suddenly opened the iron
gate at the back, which was instantaneously closed
behind him with a clashing din. Folding his arms
across his chest, he immediately assumed the atti-
tude of triumph and domination : his features were
fixed in rigid sternness : his dark piercing eyes
glanced quickly at each animal in rapid succession,
as if to overawe them all. The lion lay down
heavily, and gave a tremendous gape, which showed
a mouth large enough to take in the head of his
master : the bear stood up on his hind legs, grasp-
ing the bars with his fore-paws, and looking at the
crowds in front of the footlights: the hyena
walked rapidly to and fro, rubbing himself against
the bars, but with his head slightly inclined more

EllEN PERCT; OE, THE MEM0IE9 OF AN ACTEES3.

than its natural carriage was, as if partially cowed
by the presence of the brute-tamer. The animals
which I have omitted to name, crouched down in
the corners of the cage : but the tiger circled about
the captain, with methought a mingled cat-like
stealthiness and subdued malignity.

This tiger was a splendid animal from the
jungles of Bengal: ho was larger than any I had
seen in the Zoological Gardens or in travelling
menageries. He was beautifully striped ; and
every time his eyes caught the glare of the foot-
lights, I beheld them gleam with their bright
yellow pupils in a half reptile-like, half cat-like
manner. As he paced round and round, the velvet
balls of his paws scarcely made any sound upon
the plank-floor of the cage : the lower part of the
feet bent as if beneath the weight of the body
which they had to sustain; and the movement of
the animal was undulatory, so to speak, in every
pai-t of body and limbs. There was something
horrible in the very elasticity and suppleness of
that brute: for it seemed as if with only the
slightest effort it could suddenly dart at that ad-
venturous man who was standing there, in the
middle of the cage, just as a serpent flings itself
forth from its coils.

Por two or three minutes did the brute-tamer
thus remain stationary, but having eyes as it were
for each of the other occupants of that cage. The
noble lion appeared to be calmly indifferent to his
presence : indeed he yawned, and gaped, and
blinked — now putting his head between his paws
— then slowly raising it to gape again, as if even
unconscious that his master was there. The bear
seemed equally ignorant of the fact — but more
stolidly so : the hyena, on the contrary, evidently
liked it but little : the minor animals were still
more cowed : but it was not so easy to esti-
mate what the tiger thought of it. There was
however a growing sense of uneasiness in my
mind ; and I wished myself fairly out of the place
—or rather perhaps that I had not entered it on
the present occasion. I saw too that Juliet was
sharing my vague apprehensions : but Lord Frede-
rick laughed and jested with us for what he termed
our folly.

Presently Captain Chalmers commanded the
tigpr in an authoritative voice to lie down. The
animal obeyed him, but with a subdued growl ; and
even when crouching at his feet, it looked up in
his face as if ready to spring at the slightest pro-
vocation on the part of its master. Chalmers put
his right foot upon the tiger's body : the brute
rolled over on its back; but it seemed to clutch its
master's legs in a querulous angry manner with
its four claws. Chalmers gave vent to a passionate
ejaculation and tore away his leg suddenly. The
tiger sprang up with a louder growl than before ;
and more angrily too than before did the Captain
bid it lie down. It made a slight retrograde
movement, which brought it upon its haunches ;
and I could scarcely keep back a scream as the
horrible idea struck me that it was about to
spring.

" Down ! down !" ejaculated Chalmers, in a voice
of the most angry command : but the tiger, instead
of obeying, resumed its walk around the cage, —
thus circling, with its noiseless feet and its supple
undulating form, about its master.

" I really do begin to think," said Lord Frede-

rick Raveuscliffe, " that he has not complete con-
trol over that brute."

I now observed one of the underlings of the
theatre coming as far forward as the side-scenes
would permit without his being actually seen by
the audience; and he gesticulated vehemently to
the actor who was nearest. This latter indiviHuRl
hastened towards the underling, from whose hand
he received a whip or stick, which he passed
through the bars at the back of the cage. It
was instantaneously clutched by Chalmers — who,
brandishing it before the tiger's eyes, bade the
animal lie down. The brute gave a growl of un-
mistakable savageness ; and sprang back as if
frightened at its own audacity. Chalmers hit it a
smart blow with the whip ; and the next instant
it flew at him with a howl that elicited shrieks
from female lips in every part of the house.

"Tell the audience it is nothing!" I heard
Chalmers exclaim to the actors who stood near the
cage; and at the same moment dropping the
whip, he drew the dagger from its sheath.

The weapon gleamed in the light which flooded
the theatre, and though Mr. Norman, who per-
formed the part of the Rajah, stood forward to
give the audience the assurance which Captain
Chalmers had desired to be conveyed, there was
now an almost general consternation. Tlie tiger was
howling horribly, and appeared by its attitudes to
be every moment about to spring at the brute-
tamer. Panic seized upon the crowds of specta-
tors; and there was one simultaneous rush from
the boxes — though the persons in the pit and gal-
leries, more courageous or more curious, remained
in their places. The stage-box — where I was
seated with Juliet and Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe
— was, as the reader will understand, almost
close by the cage ; and the terrible apprehension
smote me that the beasts might effect their escape.
Scarcely had this idea flashed through my brain —
and just at the beginning of the rush from the
boxes — there was a terrific din produced by the
bars of the cage ; and the wild cry arose, " The
tiger is loose !"

Dreadful screams from female lips rang through
the theatre; and Juliet burst forth from our box.
Whether she merely fell or actually fainted in the
corridor immediately outside, I was not sure at
the time ; for I myself was almost wild with
affright. Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe hastened to
pick her up: I, who was the last to issue from
the box, closed the door violently behind me ; and
then the next moment some object dashed itself
with such tremendous force against that door on
the inner side, that in my frenzied alarm I was
smitten with the conviction it was the tiger
springing after us. Overpowered by the horrible
nature of my thoughts, I fell down in a swoon.

When I came back to consciousness, I found
myself inside a close carriage, or equipage of some
kind ; and a gentleman was seated by my side.
My first thought was that it was Lord Frederick
Ravenscliffe: but where was Juliet ?— for I and
this gentleman were alone together. Scarcely had
I asked myself that question, when a blazing gas-
lamp over the door of a public-house sent its light
inside the vehicle ; and a scream rose to my lips
as I recognised Edwin St. Clair. He at once
thrust something white (I have since learnt it to
be a handkerchief) up into my face ; a powerful

odour smote iny nostrils ; and I relapsed into in-
sensibility as suddenly and as abruptly as I had
fallen down into a swoon in the theatre !

When for the second time on this memorable
evening I regained my senses, I found myself in
that very same bed-chamber which I had before
occupied at St. Clair's house at the time I believed
it to belong to Colonel Bellew. I was lying upon
a sofa which stood against the foot of the bed:
lights were burning in the room ; and Catherine,
the female-servant whom I had before seen at that
house, was bending over me. My forehead and
hair were all wet : a powerful odour of vinegar
floated around me; and I knew therefore that re-
storatives had been administered. For nearly a
minute after opening my eyes, I felt so weak and
enfeebled as to be unable to move or to give utter-
ance to a word— although I recognised both the
woman and the apartment. At length my energies
seemed to come back with suddenness. I started
up, and flung my looks rapidly around, — expect-
ing to encounter St. Clair. But I was alone in
the chamber with Catherine.

" You are better now, Miss ?" she said.

" Yes," I answered. " Am I again a prisoner
here ?"

"Captain St. Clair," responded the woman,
" hopes you will not think of leaving until he has
had the honour of an interview in the morning."

" Very well," I rejoined. " You can now leave
me."

Catherine inquired if I wished for any refresh-
ments, or if there were anything else she could do
for me P— but I replied in the negative. She then
quitted the room ; and I hastened to lock the door.
I knew very well from antecedent circumstances
that it would have been utterly useless to remon-
strate with her, to implore or to menace; for that
she would not assist in giving me my liberty, even if
she possessed the power. I had therefore dealt
curtly with her, as the reader has seen : but though
I maintained an air of fortitude in her presence, I
was not the less afflicted and frightened inwardly
at finding myself once more in the power of such
an unprincipled character as St. Clair.

Still I did not lose my self-possession. The
reader will recollect that the chamber was entered
by means of an ante-room, exquisitely fitted up as
a boudoir. I had locked the door of communi-
cation between the two; and I now began to in-
spect the chamber itself, so as to guard against any
latent treachery of which I knew St. Clair to be
fully capable. I looked under the bed and under
the sofa : the curtains were closely drawn over the
window-recess ; I looked behind them. There was
a large cupboard in the room : this I opened, and
tound the shelves to be crowded with china and
linen. Against the wall facing the window, there
stood a large, massive, and handsome piece of lur-
niture, about eight feet high and about four in
width, looking like a wardrobe or clothes-press. It
had large folding-doors reaching from the top to
the bottom, with glass half-way down, and pink
silk curtains inside these windows, I tried those
doors also : but they were fastened ; and having
now completed the examination of the room, I felt
convinced that I was safe from any treachery of
the kind which I had apprehended.

I eat down to reflect on the course which I
should pursue in my present difficulty ; for as to

undressing myself or lying down to seek reposo,
it was out of the question, though I experienced a
severe headach from the effects of the subtle nar-
cotic which the villanous St. Clair had applied to
my nostrils in the vehicle in order to reduce me to
insensibility and prevent me from screaming out for
succour while in the streets of London. I knew the
chamber to be too high from the ground to admit
the possibility of escape : I was also aware of the in-
utility of crying out from the casement in the hope
of arousing any occupants of the neighbouring
villas ; for on the former occasion threats and
warnings had been held out to me on that very
point. How, then, should I effect my freedom ?
how should I deal with St. Clair when meeting him
in the morning ? and would the presentation of a
flower (for I had one in my hair, having gone in
full dress to the theatre) produce that same talia-
manic effect which it had done on a former occa-
sion?

Common sense at once answered this last query ;
and that response was of course in the negative :
for if St. Clair were to be a second time overawed,
dismayed, and vanquished by such a proceeding,
he would not have carried me off at all, when he
must have known that it would be merely to en>
counter such a defeat at my hands. I felt there-
fore that the talisman had lost its power, and that
my safety and my freedom must be ensured by
other means. Suddenly a thought struck me;
and prompted as much by curiosity as by the idea
that the document might possibly help me in my
serious embarrassment, I rose and proceeded to the
toilet-table. It was a superb piece of furniture,—
a framework of beautifully carved rosewood sus-
taining a massive marble slab ; and to the back of
the table a looking-glass in a gilt frame was at-
tached by means of splendid supporters. As I
have noticed in a preceding chapter, the table itself
was covered with all the necessaries and elegancies
suitable for the toilet of the most refined lady ;
and these seemed to have been so little disturbed
since I was previously in that room some months
back, that I felt almost convinced the chamber
never could have been used during the interval.
I was about to open the drawer to which I had re-
stored the fragment of the mysterious letter,—
when happening to glance into tbe mirror, I be-
held something that suddenly petrified me with
terror.

The toilet-table was almost exactly facing that
large wardrobe of which I have before spoken;
and as distinctly as possible I saw by the reflection
in the glass, the pink curtain of that wardrobe
drawn partially aside for an instant, and an eye
looked forth at me. The next moment the curtain
was closed again ; and there I stood transfixed, —
terror having arrested the shriek which had risen
up to my very lips. But my presence of mind
was almost as promptly regained as it was lost;
and not choosing immediately to open the drawer
and search for the Iragraent of the letter, I took
up one of the brushes from the toilet-table and
began to smooth down my hair. I composed my
features as much as possible, and studied so to
model my demeanour as to produce the impression
that I was utterly unsuspicious of the pending
treachery, and still deemed myself completely alone
in that chamber.

I remained for two or three minutes in front of

tlie looking-glass, arranging my hair as well as my
dress, which had got somewhat disordered by the
swoons through which I had passed, as well as by
having been carried in and out of the vehicle.
But while thus seeming to occupy myself in so
natural and unsuspicious a manner, my thoughts
were keenly alive ; and I was deliberating upon
the course which I should pursue. The looking-
glass reflected the wardrobe opposite, as well in-
deed as the greater portion of the whole room. I
noticed the position of ail the articles of furni-
ture; and with my eye I measured the distance
between that wardrobe and the wall facing it.
It was in this wall that the window was, against
the draperies of which the toilet-table stood. My
plans were carefully digested; and my mind was
made up how to act.

Against the wall of which I have just spoken,
there was a long ottoman, or sofa without back or
sides, covered with a rich crimson velvet, and fur-
nished with luxurious cushions. I first proceeded
to move this ottoman away from the wall, and to
turn it out in such a manner that one of its ex-
tremities rested against the massive marble pe-
destal which supported one of the statues that em-
bellished the chamber. I did this with every
appearance of calmness and tranquillity, and not as
if I were in the faintest degree excited. I threw
myself upon the ottoman which I had thus dis-
placed ; and I said in an audible voice, but yet as
if speaking only to myself, " Here I can repose,
and at the same time watch the door !"

While reclining there for a few minutes, I ac-
curately measured with my eye the distance be-
tween the end of the ottoman and the doors of the
wardrobe. The result was satisfactory : but when
about to execute the remainder of my plan I
dreaded lest St. Clair should fathom my purpose
and suddenly burst forth upon me to prevent its
accomplishment: for that he was the concealed
tenant of the wardrobe, I could have no possible
doubt. Summoning all my courage and self-
possession to my aid, I rose from the ottoman —
again affected to occupy myself for a few moments
in front of the looking-glass — and then I ap-
proached the sofa which, as before described, was
at the foot of the bed. All in an instant I seized j
upou that sofa : it moved easily upon its castors; \
and I rolled it rapidly on towards the wardrobe, '
against the doors of which it came in strong con- \
cussion ; and quick as lightning I tossed down a
chair in the interval which remained to be filled
up between the other extremity of the sofa and
the nearest end of the ottoman. Thus, as the
reader will understand, a line was formed by these
three articles of furniture between the doors of
the wardrobe and the pedestal standing against
the wall on the opposite side. It was a barricade
that effectually prevented the opening of those
doors ; and St. Clair was a prisoner. An ejacula-
tion of triumph burst from my lips; for 1 knew
that for him to push the doors open was impos-
sible ; and the construction of the upper portion in
which the glass panes were set, was too massive
and solid for him to break through it, especially as
he was, " cribb'd, cabin'd, and confin'd " in so nar-
row a space.

I immediately hastened to the toilet-table. I
opened the drawer ; and there, sure enough, I 1
found the fragment of the mysterious letter of {

which I had resolved to possess myself; for I na-
turally felt that whatsoever clue I might obtain to
the reading of the dark secrets which wero evi-
dently associated with St. Clair, would give me
an additional hold over him and serve as defence-
works in future against the villanous projects
which ha was so perseveringly directing against
myself. I secured the fragment of the letter about
my person ; and scarcely had I done this, when
the crashing of a pane of glass in the door of tho
wardrobe smote my ears.

"Ellen, you have vanquished me!" said the
voice of St. Clair, in a tone expressive of the ut-
most mortification. "For heaven's sake release
me from this dreadful position !"

" I will not waste time," I answered with cold
disdain, "by reproaching you for this renewed vil-
lany towards me ; because every phase of your
conduct proves that mere upbraidings are lost
upon you. But my mind is made up how to act.
Towards me you harboured the most infamous of
purposes: and you can expect no mercy at my
hands. For me to liberate you, would be an act
of as complete madness as if I had ere now opened
the door of that cage at the theatre, and with my
own hand suffered the wild beasts to escape !"

"I swear to you," answered St. Clair, on whose
countenance the light fell as he drew aside the
pink curtain of the wardrobe, " that you suspect
me of a crime of which I am not capable ! You
were safe from actual outrage on my part. As
there is a heaven above us, I love you too well,
Ellen — too madly — too devotedly to consummate
such an iniquity ! But I had resolved that you
should be mine ; and methought that after it were
known to all the domestics of my household that
we had passed hours together in the same cham-
ber, you would no longer refuse to give me your
hand. Believe me that this is the truth ! It is
your unkindness towards me that has rendered my
imagination so fertile in expedients to possess you !"

" A man who is capable of such deep dark vil-
lany as you have practised towards me," I an-
swered, " is capable of any other atrocity ; and
you cannot be surprised that I put not the slight-
est faith in the assurances you are now giving me.
Tbink you for a moment that I could ever accept
as a husband a man who would have won me by
such means? Not won me! — for it would have
been by the vilest coercion and the most dastard
intimidation that you would have compelled me to
give you my hand! Wide enough. Captain St.
Clair, was the gulf already between us : but wider
than ever, if possible, has it to-night been ren-
dered by this crowning infamy of your's. Now
listen to me ! I am about to seek my freedom.
That I shall find the outer door locked, I have not
a doubt : but for this emergency I was prepared.
You will see how desperate and how invincible is
my courage ! Unless you yourself can by soma
means tell me how to ensure a safe egress from
this house, I will at once set fire to the draperies
of the bed and the windows — the terrific alarm
will ring through the house— the door of the ante-
room will be opened to me — and I shall escape !
But whether any of your domestics will have tha
courage to penetrate into this chamber when
blazing in conflagration — whether, in a word, they
will thus come to search for yoit— is a point which
I dare not pause to take into consideration."

ELLEN PEECT; OE, the MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3.

" But all this is horrible, Ellen !" exclaimed St,
Clair : and the feeling which, prompted the words
was expressed upon his convulsing features as the
light fell upon his countenance.

"I know it is horrible," I responded: "but it
is the only alternative "

" Good God !" he cried, in mingled terror and
anguish, "my servants know not that I am
here !"

" They know not that you are here ?" I ejacu-
lated : and then thinking that the outer door
might be unlocked after all, I flew to ascertain.

St. Clair called after me in accents of the most
imploring entreaty : but I heeded him not. I
opened the door of the bed-chamber : I sped into
the ante-room — I tried the outer door which opened
upon the landing ; but I found it fastened. What
did St. Clair mean P His servants knew not that
he was in the chamber ; and yet he had intended
to remain the whole night there, in order that this
fact might be known to them in the morning, and
that it might serve as a means of compelling mo
to give him my hand ? I could not understand it ;
and I therefore felt persuaded — as I indeed all
along suspected — that he had been deceiving me
by those representations. I returned into the bed-
chamber ; and I said coldly, " The outer door is
locked."

" For Leaven's sake grant me your patience for
a few minutes 1" he exclaimed; "and I will con-
vince you that I have spoken nothing but the
truth. My object was to reduce you to that posi-
tion in which, to save your own reputation, you
would be compelled to accept me as your husband.
On arriving at the house I ordered you to be
transported to this chamber. I bade Catherine
lock the door of the ante-room, take out the key,
and thrust it underneath the door of my own bed-
room— alleging as a reason for this command that
I might be assured none of the other servants
would either through motives of compassion or
apprehension grant you your freedom. But in-
stead of repairing to my own room, I came and
secreted myself in this, while you were being con-
veyed up-stairs. My object may easily be under-
stood — — "

"And tbat object?" I said, inquiringly: for
there seemed to be so much sophistry and so many
inconsistencies in St. Clair's explanations that I
could not put faith in them.

" I see that you doubt me," he continued ;
" but by facts will I convince you. Were you not
brought in a state of insensibility to this house ?
were you not tlierefore in my power ? and might
I not have rendered you my victim ? But no 1 I
suffered Catherine to adopt the means of recover-
ing you, so that when the morning should come,
and she on entering the chamber should find me
with you, it would have the appearance as if you
had of your own accord succumbed to my entrea-
ties, my vows, and my protestations."

" Ob, this refined villany !" I exclaimed, my
cheeks crimson with indignation and with the
glowing shame of offended modesty. " Enough of
these details ! — enough, I command you ! — and tell
me at once to what is all this to lead ?"

" You must listen to me, Ellen !" proceeded St.
Clair vehemently. " Call me villain if you will :
but at least let me convince you that my villany
has not been altogether so great as you imagine

it. Catherine has no doubt placed the key, ac-
cording to my instructions, beneath my bedroom
door "

" How then," I demanded, " could she possibly
suppose in the morning — if your villanous plans
had been carried out— that you had availed your-
self of that key to obtain admission here ? How
could she even obtain admission for herself in the
morning ?"

" Because I have a duplicate key," answered St.
Clair ; " and it is here in my hand. Liberate mo
from this place— carry not into effect your dreadful
menaces —do not expose my life to so hideous a
peril ! — and I swear to you, Ellen, that you shall
go forth from this house without a hair of your
head being harmed. Nay, more ! — as this plot of
mine has failed, it must be the last which in the
madness of my love I dare practise against you.
For I know that to-morrow you will invoke the
protection of the law, and I shall flee away to the
Continent — there to remain until your anger be
appeased, or some individual more fortunate than
myself may have won that hand which I would
give worlds td possess. Thus you perceive, Ellen,
you will henceforth incur no fresh peril from me !"

" Enough !" I ejaculated ; " there is no reliance
to be placed upon your word. Give me that key
— or my threats shall be carried out — the flames
shall be applied to the curtains and the draperies !
Oh, you little suspected, Captain St. Clair, with
whom you had to deal ! For such persecutions as
your's — such devices — such crimes' — are sufficient
to arouse the desperate and vindictive spirit of
an angel !"

"But if I give you the key," cried Edwin, in
accents of mingled rage and despair, "you will
emancipate yourself — and you will leave me
here ?"

"Doubtless!" I exclaimed. "Quick! quick!
You know the alternatives!" — and speeding to-
wards the toilet-table, I stretched forth my hand
as if to grasp one of the tapers that were burning
there.

" For heavenHi sake pause !" cried the wretched
St. Clair. " This is madness on your part I I
swear to fulfil my word — you shall leave this house
unharmed "

" Not one tittle of the advantages that I have
gained," I cried, " will I surrender up ! No !— on
the contrary 1" — and I placed another chair, laid
down lengthways, between the ottoman and the
sofa, in order to strengthen the barricade which
kept my prisoner fast.

"But if you leave me here, Ellen," said St.
Clair, in a tone of the most abject piteousness,
" you will render me an object of ridicule to my
domestics— they will whisper the tale abroad— it
will become known — I should be laughed at — at
the Club I should be jeered "

"All these misfortunes you will have drawn
down upon your own head," I interrupted him :
and then I added in a taunting tone, " But if you
proceed to the Continent you will escape the un-
pleasant things you have enumerated. Ah, Cap-
tain St. Clair I your words are full of contradic-
tions and inconsistencies!"

" For heaven's sake release me. Miss Percy !—
release me, Ellen ! I conjure you !" he cried. "To
leave me here — to be discovered thus by my do*
mestics— were intolerable!"

EILEN PEECX; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEE83.

" And you who care not to perpetrate the
blackest atrocities within the knowledge of your
servants," I retorted, "tremble like a frightened
child at the slightest idea of encountering ridicule !
But enough of all these bandying words "

"For the last time," interjected St. Clair, "I
entreat you to have mercy upon me ! Yes, it is
true — I do tremble at the idea of ridicule ! Save
me from it !"

"And I have my reputation to maintain," I
immediately rejoined. "When your domestics dis-
cover how you have been treated by me, they will
have the most convincing proof that there has
been no weakness nor yielding on my part. And
now enough!— decide quickly ! Give me the key
—or in another moment I fire the chamber !"

A sound, which seemed to be composed of a
half-subdued cry of rage and a moan of despair,
came from the lips of the prisoner as his arm was
thrust through the broken pane of glass, and his
hand presented me the key. I clutched it with
avidity and in triumph. St. Clair besought me
to remain a few moments while he addressed me
in some parting words : but I gave him no reply.
I sped to the outer door of the ante-room : the
key turned in the lock, — I opened that door. A
lamp was burning on the landing ; I listened —
the whole house was silent. I descended the
stairs, and reached the hall. It was dark : the
gas-light had been extinguished. I felt rejoiced
at the conviction that all the servants had retired
to rest. I opened the front door : I now breathed
the fresh air of freedom.

But scarcely had my heart thrilled with a sense
of ineffable triumph, as well as with thankfulness
for my escape from a great peril, when I was
smitten with a new sense of embarrassment. Yet
it was a difficulty ridiculously insignificant in
comparison with the one from which I had just
emancipated myself. I was in an evening dress,
without a bonnet, and with only a light scarf
thrown over my shoulders. The neighbouring
church- clocks were proclaiming the hour of mid-
night: it was a somewhat lonely part of the
suburbs; and I was standing in that costume on
the steps of a house inhabited by a single gentle-
man. In another moment I might find myself
exposed to the insults of passers-by. This was
the source of my bewilderment : for it may easily
be imagined that I did not like, dressed as I was,
to run m search of a vehicle to take me home —
while on the other hand I might wait long enough
there in expectation of an unoccupied cab to
pass.

Scarcely a minute however had elapsed since
the front door of St. Clair's house had closed be-
hind me — and scarcely had those rapid perplexing
thoughts swept through my mind — when I beheld
an equipage approaching ; and by the light of
its brilliant lamps I recognised it to be Lady
Lilla Essendine's. With a cry of joy I sprang
forward, and called to the coachman to stop. He,
at once recognising me, complied. Lady Lilla,
who was inside the carriage, also recognising me,
gave vent to an ejaculation of astonishment. The
footman leapt down to open the door ; and as I
entered the vehicle, I begged Lady Lilla to convey
me home to the Iformans' house in Hunter Street.
That the domestics might not think it strange at
finding me iu such a position at such a time of

night, I hastily said a few words to the eflEect tbat
I had experienced most treacherous treatment,
from the scene of which I had fortunately es-
caped.

"I can conjecture full well, my dear Ellen,"
answered Lady Lilla in a low tone, " who has been
the author of this treachery. But will you not
come straight on to my house ?"

" No — it is impossible !" I responaed. " The
Normans will be overwhelmed with anxiety con-
cerning me. At least convey me to the nearest
stand of public vehicles "

" Good heavens, my dear Ellen !" ejaculated
Lilla in a tone of reproach; " it was not of trouble
nor of inconvenience that I was thinking."

Her ladyship at once ordered the carriage to
turn and drive to Hunter Street; and while we
were proceeding thither, I narrated everything
that had occurred, suppressing only the circum-
stance of having possessed myself of the fragment
of the mysterious letter. Lady Lilla listened with
the deepest attention until I reached that stage of
my story in which I had to describe how I had
kept St. Clair a prisoner in the wardrobe. Then
she laughed with the wildest exultation : there
was something more than mere mirth in the effect
thus produced; — it was a malignant satisfaction
as if her own vindictive spirit were indescribably
rejoiced at the bitter chastisement which had over-
taken St. Clair.

" And yet," I said, " all things considered, I
would not have publicity given to this adventure
of mine. I do not like to be talked about in such
a sense. I shall not even mention the occurrence
to the Normans, as it would only compel me to
give explanations in respect to antecedent circum-
stances between myself and St. Clair. Mr. and

Mrs. Norman have only one fault they cannot

keep a secret; and were I to tell them all these
things, they would whisper them to one and to
another until the whole town would ring with
them."

" You have but to signify your slightest wish to
me," rejoined Lady Lilla, "in order to have it
gratified. But here we are in Hunter Street."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE DUCHESS AND THE COUNTESS.

The Normans were at the supper-table; and Lord
Frederick RavenscliflFe was likewise there. I found
them surprised at my protracted disappearance :
but they were not labouring under any apprehen-
sion, for they had reason to believe that I had been
taken care of by friends. As they knew that Lady
Lilla Essendine's carriage brought me home, they
conceived that I had been all the time with her ;
and there was consequently no need for me to give
evasive replies, nor to tell a tale in which the
whole truth should be suppressed. I gathered
indeed from the hasty remarks, comments, and ex-
planations which now assailed me as it were iu a
volley, an idea of what had occurred when I fell
down in a fit in the corridor of the theatre.

It appeared that Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's
attentions were wholly required by Juliet, who was
the first to swoon. Crowds rushed forth from the

EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTEES8.

other boxes into the corridor ; and Lord Frederick
entreated that some regard should be paid to me.
A gentleman and lady at once complied with his
request ; and the ejaculations which burst from
their lips, showed that they immediately recognised
me. They bore me away in a state of unconscious-
ness ; and in the meanwhile Juliet recovered. Her
father was almost immediately on the spot ; and
he assured the young nobleman and his daughter
that there was nothing to apprehend in respect to
the wild beasts. It further appeared that Captain
Chalmers— having by brandishing the dagger suc-
ceeded in overawing the tiger — had instantaneously
availed himself of the opportunity to quit the cage.
The violent closing of the grating as he thus
skipped from the den, caused the panic alarm that
the tiger had escaped. Mr. Norman — who was
representing the character of the Eajah — perceiv-
ing that our box was so abruptly vacated, sprang
down into it from the stage, to tranquillize us with
the assurance that there was no danger : and trip-
ping over a seat, he had fallen with that violence
against the door which filled me with the horrible
idea that the tiger had sprung after us. In the
course of a few minutes the greater portion of the
panic-stricken audience returned to their places ;
and the drama proceeded : but Captain Chalmers
did not again venture into the den. Lord Frede-
rick and Juliet were surprised that I did not re-
turn— but still they were not uneasy : they natu-
rally felt assured that I had either fallen into the
hands of friends, or else of persons who would
treat me in a friendly manner. Lord Frederick
was too much excited and bewildered at the time
on Juliet's account, to take very much notice of
the lady and gentleman who had carried me off ;
and he was utterly unacquainted with them per-
sonally.

Such were the explanations which I received ;
and I made a remark which had the effect, as I
intended it should, of making my friends suppose
that I bad remained unconscious of whatsoever
passed until I found myself with Lady Lilla Essen-
dine.

" Then you do not know," exclaimed Lord
Frederick, " who the gentleman and lady were to
whom you are so much indebted, and who must
doubtless have consigned you into Lady Lilla's
care ?"

"I cannot even conjecture," I responded; "for
they themselves gave no intimation which could
possibly be repeated to me :"— and this was true
enough, as the reader is aware. " But I should
like to know who they were."

" Naturally so," said Mrs. Norman ingenuously,
—"in order to take the first opportunity of ex-
pressing your gratitude. Perhaps you can describe
them. Lord Frederick ?"

" I do not think I can," he answered ; " and yet
I should possibly know them again if I were to
see them. I was so distressed and bewildered on
Juliet's account — likewise on your's. Miss Percy
for it was no trivial thing to have upon my
hands two ladies who had fainted— although we
can now afford to smile at my embarrassment——"

"And yet," I said, "if your lordship could but
give me the faintest sketch of this gentleman and
lady "

" Their images are only retained so confusedly
and dimly ia my miad," interrupted the young

nobleman, " that I really know not how to enter
on such a description. I dare say we shall see
them again, as they most likely frequent the
theatres; and then, as it often happens in similar
cases, the recognition will flash in unto my
memory."

On retiring to my chamber, I reflected on
everything I had just heard. There was a gap to
be filled up. Who could this gentleman and lady
be? Perhaps strangers; and St. Clair, having
seen everything that passed, had stepped in to
assert some superior claim to have the care of me ?
Or, on the other hand, they might have been
accomplices of St. Clair?— though I was certain
that Colonel Bellew had not figured in this in-
stance, inasmuch as I had once heard Lord Frede-
rick Eavenscliffe on some occasion incidentally
mention that he was acquainted with him. Unable
to arrive at any satisfactory conjecture on the
point, I proceeded to examine once more that
mysterious fragment which I had brought with mo
from St. Clair's house. I perused its contents
with almost as harrowing an interest as when my
eyes first scanned them. Oh ! what wild pas-
sionate words were those which had found record
upon that paper ! — how ineffable must have been
the anguish of mind in which they were penned !
What horror — what excruciations— what worlds of
mental suffering did they bespeak 1 They seeraed
to conjure up ghastly shapes around me, and to
make my heart writhe as if with the infection of
their own crucifying tortures. But composing my
feelings as well as I could, I endeavoured to shut
out from my mind the sense of that impassioned
language itself, and to study only the handwriting
in which it was recorded At the same time I
strove to recollect Lady Lilla's writing ; and again
was I struck by the resemblance — again were all
my fearfuUest suspicions aroused— and I could not
help thinking that which I would have given the
world tiot to think in respect to one who had dis-
played so much kindness towards me. At length,
having locked up the mysterious fragment in my
desk, I retired to bed.

Two or three days afterwards I saw in that por-
tion of a morning paper which was devoted to
fashionable movements, an announcement to the
effect that Captain Edwin St. Clair, M.P,, had left
England on a Continental tour, and was not ex-
pected to return until the opening of Parliament
should call him to the resumption of his senatorial
duties. I was pleased at this piece of intelligence ;
for having been unfortunate enough to win the
maddened love of such an unprincipled character,
I could at no time consider myself safe while he
remained in the British metropolis.

Buriug the week which followed the adventures
that I have been relating, I reappeared upon the
stage, to achieve fresh triumphs. I must candidly
confess that on the first evening when I thus once
more trod the boards of the theatre, I experienced
a certain tightening at the heart, as the dying
words of my deceased aunt came vividly back to
my memory. Yet they were not qualms of con-
science which I thus felt : for if for a moment I
had fancied I was doing wrong, I should have at
once abandoned the stage. But I regretted that |
the profession which I had adopted should be re- j
pugnant to the prejudices entertained by oas
whom I had so much loved and respected.

EILEN PBKCT; OR, THE MEZiIOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

One morning I received a note fro;u a bdj bo-
longing to tlie highest sphere of aristocracy, re.
questing me to call upon her at her mansion at
the West End, as she was desirous to speak to me
relative to a dramatic entertainment she purposed
to give shortly. This lady was the Duchess of
Ardleigh ; and her husband was one of the wealth-
iest noblemca in England. The note was ad-
dressed to me as Miss Trafford ; and I showed it
to the Normans. They recommended me by all
means to comply with the wishes of her Grace, —
observing that I was sure to receive a very hand-
some remuneration for whatsoever engagement 1
might thus enter into. I accordingly wroto a
reply, to the effect that I would wait upon the
Duchess of Ardleigh at three o'clock in the after-
noon of the following day, if that hour should
prove convenient to her Grace.

Punctual to the appointment, I alighted from
No. 13.— EiLE^f Feucy.

t!ie Normans' carriage at the front entrance to the
palatial maasiou, which bore the name of ArdleigU
House. 1 was evidently expected ; for imme<
diately on giving my name, a powdered lacquey ia
gorgeous livery requested me to follow him. Ho
led me through a magnificent hall, in which nume-
rous domestics were lounging about ; and we bogaa
to ascend a marble staircase embellished with nu-
merous statues on oue side, and with balustrades
which shone like burnished gold on the other.
When half-way up this flight, 1 perceived a young,
handsome, and elegantly-dressed gentleman de-
scending : ha bowed with great politeness— but
looked fixedly at me, though not with rudeness:
indeed, without iadulging in foolish vanity, but to
be consistent with truth, I must add that those
were admiring regards which he thus bent upoa
me. I slightly acknowledged his salutation ; and
I could tell by the ceasing of the sounds of his

EtlEN PEROT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OV AN ACTRESS.

footsteps a short distance below, that he turned to
look at me again. I followed the footman: we
reached a landing superbly decorated with yellow
marble pillars, with beautiful specimens of sculp-
ture, with fine pictures, and with immense vases ;
and throwing open a door, the lacquey announced
« Miss Trafford."

Immediately upon beholding the Duchess, I re-
cognised her as a lady whom 1 had frequently seen
at the theatre, but with whose name and rank I
had been until now unacquainted. She was seated
with another lady in that splendid apartment to
•which I was thus shown ; and she rose with a dig-
nified courtesy to receive me : but her companion,
who was much older than herseU', remained seated
— tossed her head with a superciliousness which
she did not attempt to conceal— and commenced
fanning herselfj as if this were a relief to the feel-
ings of disgust which my presence excited. I felt
the blood crimsoning my cheeks ; and I should
have at once retired, if the Duchess herself had
not come forward to address me with a degree of
kindness which she evidently intended to efface or
mitigate the impression so disagreeably made upon
me by her friend's insolent demeanoup.

The Duchess of Ardleigh was about forty years
of age ; and her tall commanding figui^e had that
fulness which, while denoting that the period of a
more youthful symmetry was past, nevertheless
coqaponsated for that loss by its own richness of
contour and luxuriance of beauty. It is true that
the plumpness of the shoulders and the splendour
of the bust were such as to give the neck an air of
shortness: but this slight defect was lost sight of
when the eye of the observer rested upon the
faultlessly shaped head and the handsome counte-
nance of the Duchess of Ardleigh.

Her companion — who, as I presently learnt in
the course of conversation, bore the title of lady
Mangold — was an elderly female, decked out with
all the accessories of the toilet and other succeda-
neous aids to give herself as youthful an appear-
ance as possible. In fashionable life it often occurs
that false teeth assist in the articulation of lan-
guage as false — that artificial hair rests above a
brow within which is a brain constantly occupied
by frivolous artificialities— and that false bosoms
are placed upon even falser hearts. How true all
this may be in respect to Lady Mangold, will here-
after transpire. The first survey that I took of
her was anything but prepossessing. She seemed
to be an old coquette; but the artificialities of her
toilet were so overdone as to be palpable to a most
glaring degree ; while in her dress there was a
singular admixture of taste and frumpishness.
Her aflfectation was immense — excruciating for
herself, sickening for those who beheld it. It
ruled her actions— it was depicted in all her move-
ments—it pervaded her language — it gave its tone
and accent to her speech ; and in all its silliest arts
it was aided by the fan or the eye-glass. Lady
Mangold had never been a beauty : she now re-
sembled an old scarecrow dressed up in a fashion
to conceal or mitigate as much as possible the
ravages of time and the presence of actual ugli-
ness. There was something loathsome about that
woman: for the very strength of the perfumes
which exhaled from her dress, excited the irre-
sistible suspicion that there was a bad breath to
be absorbed in that artificial fragrance, — as deep

wrinkles and furrows and sallowness were to be
concealed by the enamel and the rouge which plas-
tered her countenance.

I may here state that which presently transpired
in the course of conversation, — that Lady Mangold
was aunt to the Duchess of Ardleigh ; and I could
not help fancying that it must be this circum-
stance which could alone induce her Grace to tole-
rate the society of that wretched frivolous old
woman. For though the Duchess herself was by
no means a lady of enlightened it\tellect, but had
all the hauteur of the highest aristocracy, mingled
with much of its frivolity and narrow-minded pre-
judices,— she nevertheless had that amount of good
taste which enabled her to adapt herself to circum-
stances, and if not actually to put oif hor pride
like a garment, at least to adjust it so that it
ceased to be offensive. Such was her bearing to-
wards me the instant she perceived how Lady
Mangold began fanning herself, and the evidences
of disgust which she displayed when an actress
was introduced within the range of her own aristo-
cratic atmosphere !

The Duchess desired me to be seated — an invi-
tation whereat Lady Mangold gave a sudden start
of mingled astonishment and indignation; and an
audible, ""Vfell, I never!" was muttered behind
the fan. The Duchess threw upon her aunt a look
of mingled deprecation and entreaty, and then
proceeded to explain to me her project of private
theatricals. Her Grace was anxious that I should
have the entire superintendence of them— that I
should select the performers who were to appear in
company with myself — and that I should attend
rehearsals for the sake of four or five amateurs who,
with her Grace's permission, were anxious to assist.

"And I hope, my dear," interjected Lady Man-
gold, with a disdainful toss of her head, " that
this young person will be careful to select such
females as may with decency figure in the presence
of those whom you mean to invite to Ardleigh
House ?"

"If her ladyship thinks," I exclaimed, my
cheeks flushing with indignation, " that I have
any acquaintance with females who are unfit to be
thus introduced "

"Prfty do not be offended. Miss Trafiford!" in-
terposed the Duchess. " My aunt is ignorant on
these subjects "

"Ignorant indeed!" exclaimed Lady Mangold,
again tossing her head. " I have read and heard
too much of theatrical matters not to know what
I am saying. And if poor dear Lord Mangold
was alive "

"Madam," I said, rising from my seat, and ad-
dressing myself to the Duchess, " I thauk your
Grace for the honour you have shown me by this
preference, and likewise for the courtesy witli
which ^ou have treated me: but I must bog to
decline any interference in a matter where it is
only too evident my arrangements would fail to
give complete satisfaction:" — and I glanced to-
wards Lady Mangold.

"Miss Trafford," said the Duchess quickly, "it
is impossible to dispense with your services! I en-
treat you to withdraw this refusal! Every ono is
acquainted with your character ; and every one
whom I may choose to invite to Ardleigh House,
will have the fullest faith in the propriety of all
your arrangements."

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN AOTEESS.

- Having thus spoken, the Duchess rose from her
seat; and advancing towards Lady Mangold, she
said, " I must insist, aunt, that you do not inter-
fere any more in this matter."

" Oh, very well ! do as you like, my dear !" ex-
claimed Lady Mangold, with concentrated rage.
" You may repent your obstinacy in rejecting my
advice when it is too late. If poor dear Lord
Mangold were alive "

The Duchess evidently did not wish to hear
what his lordship would have said or done were he
still in the land of the living ; and again address-
ing herself to me, she besought that I would un-
dertake the duties suggested. I had overheard
the words she so firmly and even peremptorily ad-
dressed to her aunt; and I reflected that it would
not be either generous or just on my part to visit
upon her Grace the indignation with which the
insulting conduct of her frivolous old relative had
inspired me. I therefore resolved to treat Lady
Mangold with the contempt she deserved; audi
acceded to the propositions of the Duchess.

" My son, the Marquis of Dalrymple," con-
tinued her Grace, " is very anxious to take a part
in these projected theatricals. I am sorry he is

not here he left us only a few moments before

your arrival "

At this instant the door opened ; and that same
young gentleman entered whom I had previously
met upon the stairs. I have already said that
he was exceedingly handsome. His figure was
tall and slender: his hair was of a rich brown:
his eyes were of a fine sparkling hazel. There was
an expression of candour and frankness in his
countenance, which subdued or softened the some-
what haughty style of his masculine beauty : for
he had a short upper lip, curving as it were with
a natural pride — and his entire profile might be
termed aristocratic. His voice was musical — his
manners w^e urbane and prepossessing. He had
a happy laugh, and was evidently as yet unspoilt
by those parasitical adulations which invariably
surround the youthful scions of high titled fami-
lies.

"This is Miss Trafi"ord, Herbert," said the
Duchess as he entered the room ; " and this. Miss
TrafFord, is my son the Marquis of Dalrymple, of
whom I was just speaking to you."

I rose from my seat : the young Marquis ad-
dressed me with as much courtesy as he could pos-
sibly have shown towards any lady belonging to
his own sphere ; and there was moreover a certain
respectful diffidence, almost amounting to bashful-
ness, in his bearing towards me. We sat dis-
cussing the contemplated theatricals, while Lady
Mangold went on fanning herself to such a degree
that it seemed as if it were only by this process
she avoided falling back in a fit. I noticed that
from time to time the Marquis of Dalrymple flung
upon her a look of ineffable disgust : but the
Duchess no longer seemed to be conscious of her
presence.

While deliberating upon the pieces that were
to bo performed, and arranging certain casts of
characters, it became necessary to refer to one
of Shakspere's plays; and the young Marquis
hastened from the room to fetch the required
volume from the library. Scarcely had the door
closed behind him, when a domestic entered to
announce to the Duchess that some lady of rank

had just called and would not detain her Grace
more than a few minutes. The Duchess desired
me to excuse her; and she issued from the room.
Lady Mangold did not seem immediately to per-
ceive that she was thus left alone with me : she
was rocking herself to and fro, and using her fan
as vigorously as ever. But all of a sudden she
started up, exclaiming with a sort of shriek,
" Gracious ! to think that they should have left
me here with this person! If poor dear Lord
Mangold were alive "

She however stopped short; for it would seem
that she never got further than the few first words
of that ejaculatory sentence relative to her defunct
spouse. I spoke not a syllable ; for I had made
up my mind to treat her with the contempt she
deserved. She was making her way towards the
door, when a thought evidently struck her. She
halted — she reflected for a moment — and then she
retraced her steps towards me, a complete change
having taken place in her demeanour. She was
now endeavouring to wreathe her wrinkled coun-
tenance into smiles ; and she said, " Well, after all,
Miss TrafFord, I do think I have been a little too
severe with you — and I hope you will forgive me,"

" I can assure your ladyship," I answered,
gravely and somewhat coldly, " that your conduct
was not calculated to inspire so strong a feeling as
a lasting resentment."

"Well, that is kind of you!" she cried, not
fathoming the tincture of irony that pervaded my
response. " Let me see ? — there is to be an after-
piece, in which a goddess is to appear Did I

not hear you say so P"

" Such is the arranjjement, my lady," I rejoined.
"It is a piece founded on the heathen mytho-
logy "

" To be sure !" she exclaimed ; " and Venus is to
appear. But you have not as yet arranged who is
to personate Venus ; and I was thinking In-
deed, if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive
But however, I was thinking, I say, that as there
must be a Venus — and as neither her Grace nor

Herbert 1 mean the Marquis of Dalrymple—

have decided who should personate the character-
but as it seemed to be understood that it is to be a
lady "

" And not an actress," I interjected, with a cer-
tain degree of scornful irony.

" Well, you know, my dear Miss Traflford, it is
an arrangement made by her Grace ; and you your-
self agreed to it."

" Because there are no artistic qualifications re-
quired in reference to that character," I observed.
" The Goddess of Beauty will merely make her ap-
pearance at the back of the stage "

"Exactly so ! Amidst clouds, and attended by
a host of little Cupids !" exclaimed Lady Mangold.
" Now, as you, Miss Trafford, are the superinton-
dent— directress — manageress — or whatever the
title be — your word is law ; and of course what-
ever you suggest must be done. I should not like
to hint it myself to the Duchess— but you can pro-
pose it as if it were quite an inspiration of your

^wn you understand what I mean and if

poor dear Lord Mangold were alive "

" Indeed I do not understand your ladyship,"
I said, though not without a suspicion of the asto-
nishing extent to which her silly conceit and vanity
were on the point of reaching.

lOO

EI.LEX PEECT ; OE, THE MEilOIES OF XT! ACTBESS.

" Oh, dear me, Miss Traflford ! how provoking !"
cried Ladj Mangold, now playing with her fan as
if she were a bashful young creature of seventeen
or eighteen. " I thought you would have taken
the hint at once ; and if poor dear Lord Mangold
were alive But, after all, you are a very re-
spectable young per lady, I mean ; and I am

really sorry — but I must atone for my rudeness.
"Well, the truth is, I mean to countenance you as
much as possible : you may command my co-
operation— and therefore, my dear Miss TraiFord,
all things considered, I shall have no objection to
play the Venus for you."

I gazed upon her ladyship in astonishment ; and
I could scarcely prevent a laugh bursting forth
from my lips. There was something indescriba-
bly ludicrous in the idea of that wrinkled hag per-
forming tho part of the Goddess of Beauty ; and I
could hardly believe the evidence of my own ears
that such an astounding proposition had been
yeritably and actually made.

"Don't say that the hint came from me," her
ladyship hastened to add; "but make the pro-
posal as if quite of your own accord. Good bye,
my dear Miss Trafford. I dare say we shall be
excellent friends ; and if poor dear Lord Mangold
■were alive •"

She stopped short, and turned abruptly from
lEC. Again was she making her way towards
the door when she paused at a table covered with
all kinds of elegant nick-nacks; and there she
halted for a few moments. I turned aside, not
condescending to fling another look upon an old
creature whom for so many reasons I utterly con-
temned. After her brief pause at the table, she
tripped towards the door, and issued from the
room, — a mirror revealing to my eyes her retreat-
ing form, and showing that she affected all the
airy lightness of youth while thus making her
exit.

Almost immediately afterwards the Marquis of
Dalrymple reappeared, with a volume of Shak-
Bpere in his hand. Methought that on perceiv-
ing his mother and aunt were no longer present,
he looked confused and embarrassed for a mo-
ment; but still there was pleasure mingling with
that confusion. His regards were bent admiringly
upon me : but when, with an air of calm politeness
and perfect self-possession I took the volume from
his hand, he seemed suddenly recalled to a sense
of that propriety of demeanour which he was
bound to observe towards me. JTot however that
there was the slightest rudeness nor insolence in
those regards of his;— and now he was once more
all respectful affability and courteous attention.
The Duchess soon afterwards reappeared ; and our
deliberations were continued : but I need scarcely
add that I dropped not a single hint relative to
the outrageous proposition made by Lady Man-
gold,

In as delicUe a manner as possible did the
Duchess of Ardleigh intimate to me that my ser-
vices should be most liberally remunerated ; and
as I was to take the character of Queen Catharine
in "Henry the Eighth," her Grace suggested that
I should have a new costume for the occasion.

"You will permit me. Miss Trafford," she
added, " to place in your hands a sum for your
immediate expenses."

Thus speaking, she rose from her seat, and ad-

vanced towards a table. She evidently Eoujfht for
something; and I fancied it was bor purse, I
begged her Grace nut to trouble herself about
1 pecuniary matters until a future occasion: but
she insisted on carrying out her purpose, — adding,
" This is very extraordinary ! I certainly left my
purse here ! I remember it well— and it contained
a considerable sum."

I experienced all the uneasiness which every
one would feel under such circumstances ; and the
Marquis of Dalrymple evidently noticed the flush
which rose to my cheeks. He hastened to the
table, and rapidly whispered something to his
mother.

"Ah!" said the Duchess aloud; "Lady Man-
gold must have taken it by mistake. She is in
the habit of leaving her own purse tossing about;
and — I recollect — it exactly resembles mine."

"I remember," I said, "that before Lady Man-
gold left tho room, she stopped for a few moments
at this table."

"Ah, then, that accounts for it!" exclaimed
the Duchess : but at the same moment I perceived
she exchanged a rapid and peculiar glance with
her son, — a glance which I by no means liked;
for it struck me as being full of suspicion.

I felt exceedingly awkward : the colour was
coming and going in rapid transitions upon my
cheeks : I was at a loss whether to say any more,
or let the matter rest where it was. "Was it pos-
sible that the Duchess and the Marquis really
suspected me, and that with extraordinary gene-
rosity she had devised the excuse in respect to
Lady Mangold ? I never felt so uncomfortable in
my life as at the bare thought of being deemed
capable of an action than to commit which I
would rather have died.

"Here is my purse," the Marquis hastened to
observe in a low tone to his mother: and then he
glanced towards me with so indescribable an ex-
pression of pain in his looks that I feit convinced
I was really the object of this most dreadful sus-
picion.

The Duchess took forth from that purse a con-
siderable sum in bank. notes ; and as she placed
them in my hand, she said, with the most friendly
affability, "A thousand thanks. Miss Trafford, for
the patience with which you have entered into all
our deliberations. We shall expect to see you
soon again at Ardleigh House; and I hope that on
the next occasion you will be enabled to furnish
me with a list of those artistes whom you have
selected to appear on our miniature stage."

The Duchess shook me by the hand ; and the
Marquis of Dalrymple accompanied me down
stairs to the carriage. I was slUl suffering under
a painful impression — though less painful than be-
fore ; for methought there was something in tho
manner of both the Duchess and her son which
was intended to convince me that they did not
entertain the dreadful suspicion under which I
feared that I was labouring. Nevertheless, the
incident was a most unpleasant one ; and I would
have given worlds that it had never occurred.

As no time was to be lost in making the prepa<
rations for the private theatricals at Ardleigh
House, I ordered the carriage to drive direct to a
shop in Eegent Street, where I had to purchase
the materials for my new costume. There were
several private carriages drawn up in front of the

EILEN PEECY; ok, THE ME1I0IE3 OP AN ACTKE38

101

establishmcut, which I found to be crowded with
lady-cuslomcra, it being one of the best and most
fashionable in Eegent Street. I was known there,
and alwajs experienced the utmost civility. Ou
entering, a chair was at onco placed by some un-
derling for my accommodation, at the only unoc-
cupied part in front of the counter to which I re-
paired; and the shopman who came forward to
serve me, addressed me by the pseudonym of Miss
Trafford. I stated what I required ; and when
my orders were given, I noticed that accident had
again brought me ia contact with Lady Mangold.
She was seated on my right hand, and appeared to
be 80 busily engaged in the inspection of silks and
laces that she affected not to perceive me. I could
well understand the silly pride of the old lady,
who would not for all the world have bestowed so
much as a sign of recognition upon me in a shop
where I was evidently known. The same shop-
man who was attending to her ladyship, was like-
wise now serving me; and I on my part pretended
to be as completely unacquainted with her as she
obose tu seem in respect to myself.

As I had numerous purchases to make, I re-
mained for some time in the shop, while Lady
Mangold appeared to be equally occupied with the
piles of goods that were scattered before her. She
turned over everything — but seemed to be buying
very little. I had already made a selection of the
greater portion of the things which I required ;
and the shopman had turned aside to procure
some other articles, when an incident occurred
which struck me with amazement and stupefaction.
Though not appearing to be taking the slightest
notice of her ladyship, I was really regarding her
at the moment; for the recollection of her ludi-
crous whim to personate the G-oddess of Beauty
was floating in my mind. All of a sudden I per-
ceived her place her white cambric pocket hand-
kerchief over three pieces of costly lace, and then
consign that kerchief with the articles to her
reticule.

I say that I was smitten with amazement and
Btupefactioa, Could I possibly believe tlie evi-
dence of my own vision? had I seen aright? I
sat gazing upon her in blank astonishment, while
she continued more assiduously than ever to turn
over the goods that were piled before her. At
that moment a shopman, who did not servo behind
the counter, but whose duty it was to place the
chairs for the accommodation of the lady-customers,
dropped his handerchief close by my seat ; and as
he stooped to pick it up, ho hastily whispered,
" Be so kind, Miss Trafford, as not to mention
what you have just seen."

I started as my ear caught these words : the
Bhcpman bent upon me a respectful look, which
was alike significant and full of entreaty; and he
lounged away to the opposite side of the establish-
ment. The shopman who was serving me, now
returned with the fresh articles that I had inquired
for; ana Lady Mangold said with the most perfect
Belf-possession, " There ! I have chosen these
things. Be so good as to make out the bill."

Her request was immediately accede 1 to ; and
she took forth her purse to pay the amount. I
glanced at that purse, to ascertain if it contained
much money; so that I might form an idea
whether it was the one lost by the Duchess : but
it ouly had four or five sovereigns iu one end, and

a few shillings in the other. I had however little
doubt that the reticule contained the purse lost at
Ardleigh House, iu addition to the three pieces of
lace just self-appropriated by Lady Mangold at the
counter of the fashionable establishment. She
paid the bill, and proceeded to her carriage, with-
out having bestowed the slightest sign of recog-
nition upon me.

By this time the shop had become comparatively
empty; and I was now the only customer left at
the counter on that side where I was seated. Iu
the meanwhile the shopman who had witnessed the
theft, and who had whispered the entreaty that I
would not expose it, had made some hurried com-
munication to the shopman who was serving me.
This latter, now finding the coast sufficiently clear,
said in an under-tone, " I understand. Miss Traf-
ford, you saw something that Lady Mangold just
did ?"

" I saw her secrete three pieces of lace," I re-
plied; "and I was shocked — I was dismayed— I
could scarcely believe my own eyes !"

"No wonder, Miss," continued the shopman:
"that old lady is the greatest tiiief that comes to
our establishment. She will lay out a pound and
steal the worth of five."

" But how is it possible," I asked, in astonish-
ment, " that you put up with it ?"

"A7e are compelled to do so," answered tho
shopman. "We keep as keen a watch over her as
possible : but one caanofc always have one's eyes
fixed upon her; for she will sit here an hour till
she gets something, if it is only a pair of gloves.
The worst is that in her case it is all sheer loss;
for if we were to send in a bill for that lace, for
instance, she would vow and protest she never 'aad
it— there would be an exposure, aud the establish-
ment would be ruined."

"You mean Lady Mangold would be ruined ?"
I observed.

"No— I mean the establishment. Miss. You
would be astonished," ho continued, still speaking
in an under-tone, "at the number of lady-thieves
there are ; and they are some of the richest too.
It is a mania, I suppose— but it prevails to a
frightful extent. In some cases we send in the
bill half-yearly for the things that are thus pilfered ;
and the accounts are paid without a murmur. In
other cases the husbands themselves call every now
and then, and inquire what is owing by their
wives. We know what is meant ; and the money
is at once paid. There are other cases, again, in
which the lady's-maids or the ' companions' of our
thievish customers come in the course of the day,
and bring back to us the articles that have bueu
pilfered. But still there are many cases, like that
of Lady Mangold, where the g'joda are neither
paid for nor returned; and we Lave to put up with
all the loss."

" You have astounded me," I said : and I really
felt as I spoke. "But still I cannot conceive why
you should tamely put up with these losses, as ia
the case of Lady Mangold "

"Suppose, Miss," rejoined the shopman, " that
Lady Mangold had just now been given into cus-
tody— the magistrate must have committed her for
trial, or else held her to bail till the case waa
hushed up. But the consequences to us would be
fearful. At least two-thirds of our best customers
would leave off dealing with us. I don't mean

102

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OV AH ACTEES3.

the lady-thieves alone — because, as you may easily
suppose, it would be a blessing to get rid of them :
but I mean the honest, upright, fair-dealing ladies
as well. TLie aristocracy all stick by each other;
and the exposure of any one belonging to their
sphere is felt as a disgrace by the whole body.
Therefore, if an exposure were once made, they
would wreak the most terrible vengeance on the
proprietors of the establishment."

" But is it possible," I asked, in amazement,
"that this can be the morality of the higher
orders ?"

" I am telling you nothing but the truth, Miss,"
answered the shopman. " Before I came to this
establishment, I cci'ved in another, higher up the
street; and a 1 'v who had long carried on a
systematic course of depredations, was at length
given into custody. I cannot tell you the excite-
ment that prevailed. The lady-customers sent
the most insolent messages by their lacqueys to
my employer, to the effect that as he dared give a
lady in charge, they would never deal with him
again. Showers of anonymous notes poured in,
full of threats as well as abuse, — some of which
latter was penned in the very coarsest style. My
employer was resolved to go on with the case; and
the Jady was brought up several times before the
magistrate. An immense amount of what was
called sympathy/ prevailed amongst the upper
class ; and I daresay there was a great deal of
fellow-feeling with the whole tribe of lady-thieves
especially. Would you believe it. Miss ?— a thou-
sand guineas were subscribed to bribe the editor
of a powerful daily newspaper to insert a leading
article in the lady's favour ; and he did it. In
short, everything was done to create sympathy —
to prove that the poor lady was the victim of an
unconquerable mania for which she was altogether
irresponsible — and that my employer was a cruel,
unfeeling, hard-hearted monster. Well, the case
went for trial — the evidence was clear— the lady
herself had admitted the theft — it was notorious
that she had plundered and pilfered at other shops
in the same way "

" And therefore the jury condemned her, as a
matter of course ?"

" I beg your pardon, Miss," replied the shop-
man; "the jury acquitted her! She went home
in triumph with her friends ; and my employer
was ruined. She now rolls by in her carriage
every day "

" There is something dreadful in all this !" I re-
marked. " I could scarcely have believed it pos-
sible."

" There is not a shopkeeper of any standing or
eminence at the West End, who is not rendered
the victim of these fashionable pilferers. Our
loss in this establishment is annually immense.
We have to keep two * walking shopmen,' as they
are called, entirely for the purpose of looking after
these lady-thieves. It was one of those shopmen
who just now whispered to you, Miss, to take no
notice of Lady Mangold's achievement; and if
you had not witnessed it, I should not have given
you all these explanations. But I hope that you
will keep them secret."

I promised that I would ; and still under the
influence of indescribable astonishment, I issued
from the establishment.

Lady Mangold was a confirmed thief; and that

she had purloined her niece's purse was a matter
beyond a doubt. Connected with the incident that
had just occurred at the shop, there was a reflec-
tion which was fraught with infiaite relief to my
own mind. I saw that after all I had not really
been suspected by the Duchess of Ardleigh and
the Marquis of Dalrymple : Lady Mangold's pro-
pensity, mania, or whatever it might be called,
was evidently well known to them ; and they thus
at once comprehended by what means the purse
was missing. Hence the rapid and significant
glances which they had exchanged ; and hence too
the manner in which the Duchess had endea-
voured to turn the affair ofi" by attributing it to a
mistake, and hinting at the similitude of her own
purse to that of Lady Mangold.

CHAPTEE XX.

THEATBICAIi UATTEBB.

On the following day, at about two o'clock in the
afternoon, I repaired to the theatre, in company
with Mr. and Mrs. Norman, for the purpose of
obtaining the assent of Mr. Richards, the lessee,
that certain members of his company should, if
willing, assist at the private theatricals at Ardleigh
House. Mr. Hichards received us in his own
room ; and he cheerfully agreed to whatsoever I
proposed : for since the achievement of my suc-
cesses, he had been aU politeness, civility, and
attention towards me.

In the midst of our deliberations some one
tapped at the door: Mr. Eichards bade the in-
dividual enter; and it proved to be an underling,
delighting in the euphonious name of Tubbs.

"Now, Tubbs, what is it?" asked the lessee,
impatiently. "You see that I am engaged "

" It is Mr. Wright, sir," answered Tubbs, with
the most submissive demeanour.

" Wright ? Wright ?" said Mr. Eichards. " Who
the deuce is Mr. Wright ?"

"If you please, sir," responded Tubbs, "he is
the gentleman — the author, I mean — of that play
which you gave to Mr. Green to read."

"Ah, to be sure ! I recollect now !" ejaculated
the lessee. "Green has reported admirably of

"He was telling me yesterday," interjected
Mr. Norman, " that it is a most excellent piece."

" Oh, well !" exclaimed Mr. Eichards, " tell
Mr. Wrigkt I am very busy now — I cannot pos-
sibly see him — let him come to-morrow, Tubbs —
or next day."

" If you please, sir," said Tubbs deferentially,
" he has already called thirty or forty times "

"Then he must call again. These dramatic
authors," continued Mr. Eichards, throwing him-
self back in liis chair, and sipping a glass of
claret, when Tubbs had retired, " are the greatest
pests we managers have to endure. They call at
all hours ! No matter whether I am taking my
lunch — or my nap— or my glass of wine — or
smoking my cigar in the evening — in short, how-
ever busily I may be engaged, it is always sure to
be the author of a piece sent in for approval, that
must want to disturb me. Those fellows have no
conscience, Mr. Norman."

"Eeally, I think," anawcred Mr. Normau, with
a smile, " tbat lessees are sometimes deficient in
consciences towards authors "

Tbe remainder of the sentence was however in-
terrupted by tbe reappearance of Tubbs, who came
to announca that Mr. Grimshaw had just called.

" Ob, show him in at once !" exclaimed Mr.
Richards : and Tubbs disappeared accordingly,
" Grimshaw," continued the lessee, " will prove
to be the cleverest Clown that has ever stood upon
the boards since Griraaldi. He has done wonders
in the provinces : and now I mean to engage with
him for the Christmas pantomime. It is some
time till then : but I mustn't let him be snapped
up by any rival manager."

Mr. Grimshaw was accordingly introduced. Mr.
S.ichards rose to receive him — made him sit down
—filled him a glass of claret — and treated him
with the utmost cordiality. I could not help think-
ing tbat in one sense it was better to be a clown
than a dramatic author : for while the former was
received in the lessee's private room the instant he
called, the latter was compelled to repeat his un-
availing visits half a hundred times— the former
was regaled with claret, the latter was made to
kick bis heels in the lobby or at the stage-door —
the former was eulogized behind his back, the latter
was spoken of as a pest and a nuisance.

Scarcely had Mr. Grimshaw got through his
first glass of claret, and made three or four
grimaces to put Mr. Eichards into all the better
humour to close with him on liberal terms, — when
an altercation outside the door reached our ears.
Voices, male and female, were engaged in most
angry parlance, until at length the door was flung
open, just as Mr. Eichards was about to start up
wrathfully from his seat and ascertain what the
disturbance was about. In stalked Mr. Mellicent,
an actor of third-rate abilities and first-rate
conceit. His countenance was crimson with rage.
He had once performed the part of a king ; and
he now seemed to have clothed himself with all the
theatrical majesty he bad assumed upon the occa-
sion : but there was something exceedingly ludi-
crous in the expression which his offended pride or
wounded feelings now took. He was gesticulating
with his left arm ; and his right hand carried
Boraething which he concealed behind his back. He
was followed by five or six other performers, male
and female, as well as by Mr. Sutterby, the "pro-
perty-man."

"Mr. Eichards !" exclaimed Mr. Mellicent, bow-
ing in a grandiose style ; " I would fain know, sir,
whether I am to be treated with the courtesy of a
gentleman within the walls of your theatre — or
whether I am to put up with the humbugging
nonsense of that wretched vulgarian, your pro-
perty-man Sutterby. That's what I want to know,
Mr. Eichards— and I should like you to pronounce
your decision at once."

" And pray, what's the matter now ?" de-
manded the lessee.

" I am cast, Mr. Eichards, for the General in
, the new after-piece to-night," continued Melli-
cent; " and first of all, sir, I might complain that
according to the arrangements of Mr. Green, your
stage-manager, I am to have three men as an
army. But I will let that pass, sir ; although it
will be impossible for those three men to look like
an army— much less to manoeuvre as one. But

my great complaiut, sir, is against Mr. Sutterby.
There, sir ! did you ever see such a cocked hat :,s
that ? What General ever wore such a thing ?
Shall I look like a general, sir ? Shall I even look
like a corporal, sir ? Shall I have an appearance
as good as a fifer to a militia regiment ?"

These last words hissed fiercely out of Mr. Mel-
licent's lips, and his eyes glared round with a
malignant rage at Mr. Sutterby, as ho produced
the cocked hat from behind his back and placed it
upon the lessee's table.

" There !" he vociferated, scornfully and spite-
fully : " you call that a property ! I never saw
such a property ! — and the property-man ought to
be ashamed of himself to produce it as a pro-
perty. What General ever wore such a hat ?
Why, sir, take off those bits of red and white
paper from the top, which don't look like a plume,
sir— and it becomes a parish-beadle's hat ! Look
at the lace all tarnished ! And look at the in-
side ! One mass of dirt and grease, that no re-
spectable man would put his head into I And tJds,
sir, is a property-hat for a General !"

" It's shametul !" ejaculated Mr. Mellicent's
companions, male and female, who had evidently
been taking his part against the unfortunate
property-man.

" I maintain, Mr. Eichards," said Mr. Sutterby,
DOW standing forward, and displaying a face that
looked very dirty and very angry, "that the pro-
perty is a good property. It was bought for two-
and-nine at the fancy dress shop in Tavistock
Street the other day. But Mr. Mellicent is
always finding fault— you can't please him no
how : he is constantly grumbling at the proper-
ties^ "

"And I say that Mr. Mellicent has justice oa
his side !" exclaimed a brother performer, now
pressing forward. " Mr. Sutterby is no good pro-
perty-man. He wants me to play the Duke in an
old yellow bed-curtain which he calls a robe. I
never saw such a property !"

The other actors and actresses now likewise stood
forward, vociferating their complaints and over-
whelming the property-man with their accusa-
tions. Mr. and Mrs. Norman and myself, having
already transacted our business with Mr. Richards,
left him to fight out his battle according to his own
discretion ; and we returned home to dinner.

On the following day I paid a second visit to
Ardleigh House, to make farth* arrangements in
respect to the private theatricals. Lady Mangold
was not present when I arrived; and t was con-
ducted to an apartment where I found the Duchess
and the young Marquis waiting to receive me.
They treated me with as much courtesy as on the
former occasion ; and it was necessary that I
should pass nearly a couple of hours with them in
settling the various preliminaries. On taking my
leave, the Marquis of Dalrymple was on the point
of accompanying me down to the carriage, as he
had done on the former occasion, — when I ob-
served that the Duchess checked him by a sign;
and he remained in the room with her, I was
by no means offended at this little display of pride
on her part: I had been already somewhat an-
noyed to observe that the young nobleman had
more than once fixed his eyes admiringly upon
me; and I by no means sought to become the ob-
ject of his attentions.

Just as I was issuing from the mansion, Lady
Mangold's equipage drove up ; and on perceiving
me, she beckoned me to approach the window of
her carriage. I however affected not to notice
her : whereupon she immediately alighted and ac-
costed me with a smirking countenance.

" You did not see me, Miss Traflford," she said,
with a lisp that was half affected and half pro-
duced by the false teeth. "I suppose you have
settled that little affair for me ?"

" Indeed, my lady," I answered, very distantly
and very coldly, " I have not spoken a word upon
the subject."

" Ob, I understand !" she ejaculated, with an
angry toss of the head, which made the immense
plumes of her bonnet wave like those on the head of
a horse attached to a mourning coach. " You are
olTended because I did not speak to you the day
before yesterday at the shop in Eegcnt Street.
But you know it was impossible ; and if poor dear
Lord Mangold had been alive "

" So fsr from ofTonded, madam," I interrupted
her, " I had erery reason to rejoice that you did
not condescend to recognise me as an act^uaint-
ance."

" "Well, I am sure. Miss Trafford ! You forget
yourself!" exclaimed the old lady : but instanta-
neously relapsing into her smirking mood, she
said, " Come, you and I must not be bad friends.
For if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive
But however, this little affair must be managed
for me. I have ordered my costume — it is all but
finished, — beautiful flowing robes of white and
azure, so as to have a celestial appearance ! And
I have got the zone too — the zone of the Goddess
of Beauty ! I have been studying the dresses in
the Pantheon of Heathen Mythology. I shall

have a silver crescent on my brow By the bye,

my robes will all be edged with the most beautiful
lace, although that part of it is not exactly in the
Pantheon : but it will be modernizing the dress
as it were. I already feel myself the Goddess ;
and my French maid assures me I shall look
divine. If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive
But why are you hurrying off ?"

" Because I have no more time to bestow upon
your ladyship," I answered, as I stepped into the
Normans' carriage that was waiting for me.

" But you must positively go back to the
Duchess," exclaimed Lady Mangold, "and com-
plete this arrangement. You can say you had
forgotten it. I will take a drive round the Park
in the meantime "

"I beg to decline any interference on your
ladyship's behalf," I said.

"This is abominable. Miss Trafford!" she cried,
in a perfect fury of vexation. " If ow that I have
gone to all the expense for the silver crescent — the
zone studded with paarls— the beautiful robes of
azure and white satin— the costly lace "

" The lace, madam," I answered, in a very low
tone, so that the servants might not overhear me
—and I looked her fixedly in the countenance, —
" the lace, madam, cost you nothing— and you
know it I Beware how you again insult me with
your supercilious pride and affected disgust."

No language can depict the hideousness of
aspect which Lady Mangold's countenance assumed
as I thus addressed her. Her small reptile-like
eyes gleamed with the most malignant rage: she

) gasped for a moment — and then said, " Insolent
1 minx ! I will be bitterly revenged against you !

If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive "

I But I made an impatient sign for the footman

I to close the door of the carriage ; and the next

I moment the equipage rolled away from the front

! of Ardleigh House. It had not proceeded very

1 far before I caught sight of Lord Frederick

Eavenscliffe, who was walking along Piccadilly.

j He immediately made a sign for the coachman to

I pull up ; and approaching the carriage-window, he

said, " I have just seen that gentleman and lady

' who took charge of you the other night at the

theatre. I did not think I should recognise them

so easily— but I did. The recollectii»a flashed to

j my mind in a moment."

j " Where are they ?" I asked.

I "There — in that shop," he replied. "They

' alighted only a few moments back from that dash<

ing phaeton."

j I could scarcely repress an ejaculation of
mingled anger and astonishment, when on looking
out of the carriage-window I at once recognised
the equipage belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Parks.
' " Will you come and speak to them r" asked
Lord Frederick, "I shall be happy to escort

j you "

"'No — I think the occasion inconvenient," I

answered. "That gentleman and lady are evi-

, dently shopping— it will look strange to introduce

; myself in such circumstances "

" Well, if you think so, Miss Percy," rejoined
Lord Frederick, " you must wait a better oppor-
, tunity. Shall I inquire who they are ?"
i " No," I responded. " All things considered, it
is not worth while."

< He raised his hat, and passed on : and as the

' carriage continued its way, I reflected most pain-

fully on the discovery I had just made. That Mr.

, and Mrs. Parks had wilfully abandoned me into

the power of Edwin St. Clair, I had not a doubt :

! while their complicity in the former outrage,

which was directed by Colonel Bellew, was equally

apparent.

" They are infamous people," I said to myself;
" and Lady Lilla Essendine is deceived in them.
She fancied that they were innocent of that com-
plicity : but I have now the fullest conviction of
their guilty connivance. Oh! they would have
ruined me, whom they had known as a child! —
and how narrowly have I escaped the toils which
they helped to set for the purpose of enmeshing
me!"

I should here observe that I had only seen the
Parkses three or four times since the night of the
grand entertainment; and I had accepted no sub-
sequent invitations to their house. This refusal
on my part had not arisen from any suspicion
that I had entertained— but simply because I did
not like them ; and mine was never a nature to
affect a friendship where it was not really expe-
rienced. I resolved to avail myself of the first
opportunity to let Mr. and Mrs. Parks know that
I had accidentally fathomed the treacherous con-
duct which they believed to be concealed: but I
did not choose to travel out of my way to seek
such an occasion.

I had to appear at the theatre in the evening;
and I returned to Hunter Sireet very much
fatigued. Instead of joioing Mr. and Mrs. Nor-

ELLES Pr:r.CT; or, the MEMOIES of an ACTESS3,

105

man and Juliet at the supper-table, I retired at
once to my cbamber ; and on seeking my couch,
soon fell asleep. Painful visions began to troop
into my mind, and throng as it were with ghastly
ehapes and awful forms around my soul. Anon
from amidst a crowd of black shapes, horrible in
their fantastic ugliness, the countenance of Edwin
St. Clair seemed to be looking out upon me ; and
methought that the wicked expression which I had
BO often noticed in his face, was now enhanced into
a more fearful sardonism than ever I had actually
known it to wear. It appeared to me that I was
gazing upon it in cold horror, — when with one of
those rapid and singular changes that occur in the
kaleidoscope of dreams, that face disappeared;
and instead of it I was now contemplating that of
Lady Lilla Essendine. Her countenance seemed
marble pale, like that of a corpse : the eyes were
fixed and stony in their gaze : the dishevelled hair
hung straight down upon her shoulders and her
No. 14. — Ellen Pekcx.

back, as if it were all damp with the clammy doTS
of the grave. I endeavoured to speak — to cry out
— to ask what she wanted with me — and why she
looked upon me thus. But I had not the power:
I was spell-bound by the rigid bonds of night-
mare; and a cold horror sat upon me. All the
hideous shapes which had previously gathered
round my bed, and in the midst of which Lady
Lilla's form had succeeded to the place previously
occupied by St. Clair, had now merged into their
congenial surrounding darkness ; and I fancied
that I was left alone with her ladyship. There she
stood, in the middle of the chamber, — clothed in
white, motionless as a corpse that stood upright
by some unknown means, — and the eyes fixing
upon me their stony glare.

But once more did a change take place in what
seemed to be passing before me. The form of
Lady Lilla Essendine was yielding up its position
to some other that waa absorbing it, or expanding

106

JlLLESr PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OE AN ACTEES8.

from it, as one object in a dissolving view gives
way to another, or rather seems to change into it.
And now I all of a sudden became awars that
there was a light burning in the room. I could
distinguish the taper upon the toilet-table: I
seemed likewise to have the recollection that I
had not extinguished it ere retiring to my couch.
And the form that I at present beheld in the
chamber, was clothed in white, as Lady Lilla's had
been : but beyond this I had no power of distin-
guishing the countenance or the contours of the
shape that was there. Slowly into my fancy stole
the idea that a low moaning sound was being
wafted to my ear. I made a mighty effort to cast
off the spell which retained me voiceless and
motionless j and then it all in an instant appeared
as if the shape on which I was looking glided
away.

I awoke — or else became completely awake from
that which was previously a mere half-slumber ;
and I was quivering with terror. My heart was
beating so loudly that I could hear it as plain as
if I were thumping myself on the chest; and so
violent was this palpitation that it was accom-
panied by a painful feeling as if the heart itself
must burst. My forehead was bathed in a cold
perspiration : I had experienced a prolonged and
terrific fright. The taper was burning on the
toilet-table ; and though, as a matter of course, I
knew that the greater portion of what I had seen,
or fancied I had seen, was merely a vision, yet
was there a strong impression upon my mind that
I had actually beheld something at the end.

I sat up in bed, and strove to reason with my-
self. It was about half-past eleven when I had re-
tired to my chamber : my watch told me that it was
now past two in the morning. Could Mrs. Nor-
man, or Juliet, or one of the female-servants have
entered my room for any reason ? This was
scarcely to be supposed : for if so, the person thus
entering would not have fled precipitately the in-
stant I gave signs of awakening. I was not in the
habit of locking the door : nor had I done so on
this particular night. I had a strong inclination
to rise and inquire whether any one was up : but
I had always entertained an aversion to the expo-
sure of any idle fears, or to be deemed weak-
minded. I therefore remained in bed ; and after a
while sleep revisited my eyes.

I awoke at my usual hour in the morning ; and
when the sunlight was shining through the win-
dow, I could afford to smile at the fears which my
dream had left behind during the night. Still there
was a lingering fancy, though now slight to a
degree, that I had really seen some shape ; and I
recurred to the theory that if this were true, some
inmate of the house must have entered my cham-
ber. In that case, I thought to myself I should
hear of it at the breakfast-table: but the meal
passed over, and nothing was said by either Mrs.
Norman or Juliet which had the slightest reference
to the subject. I had a great mind to question the

lady's-maid when I met her alone in the course of
the morning : but I did not like to do so ; and as
she said nothing to me, I gladly persuaded myself
that the end of ail that had terrified me was as
much a vision as the preceding facts.

According to an appointment made on the pre-
ceding day, I was to be at Ardleigh House pre-
cisely at noon. On alighting from the carriage at

the steps of that mansion, I beheld a short, slightly-
made, plain-featured, and somewhat insignificant-
looking man, holding a discussion with a beggar.

" It is all very well for you to tell me that you
are hungry and in want," he was saying in a sen-
tentious manner ; " but you should endeavour to
find work. You are evidently strong and able-
bodied, and have no business to he a vagrant. If
I were doing my duty to the requirements of the
law and to society in general, I should give you
into custody ; but as it is, I shall make you a pre-
sent of a shilling, in the hope that the lesson I
have given you will not be without its salutary
effects."

Such was the long speech which I heard, while
alighting from the carriage and waiting on the
steps for a few moments while the footman got
out some books that I had brought, and which
contained descriptions of theatrical costumes. The
insignificant-looking little gentleman — who was
about fifty years of age and was dressed with great
plainness — gave the beggar the shilling ; and then
he walked away with an air of immense satisfac-
tion at the course he had adopted, the eloquence
he had displayed, and the circumstance that he
had thus shown off in my presence.

I was conducted up-stairs to the drawing-room,
where the footman requested me to wait for a
few minutes and her Grace would soon join me.
A door leading to an inner room stood partially
open: but I was not immediately aware that any
persons were in that room :— neither did the foot-
man seem to be conscious of the fact, for he im-
mediately retired without proceeding to announce
to the Duchess (who was actually there) that I had
arrived. There was nearly a minute of profound
silence; and I was looking at some beautiful prints
which lay upon the table, when I was suddenly
startled by hearing the voice of the Duchess speak-
ing in the adjoining room.

" Tell me, Herbert, what is your decision ?"
were the words that thus met my ears.

" My decision, mother," replied the young Mar-
quis of Dabymple, " is that which I have already
given. I will not consent to marry Lady Cecilia
Urban !"

" Undutiful boy !" ejaculated the Duchess : " is

this the reward for all the kindness But tell

me Herbert," she said, abruptly checking herself,
and thus relapsing into a milder tone, " what has
produced this change in your sentiments ?"

"No change has taken place, mother," rejoined
the Marquis. " I never loved Lady Cecilia Ur-
ban——"

" Hush! some one is in the next room !" inter-
rupted the Duchess.

I had purposely thrown down a book somewhat
heavily upon the table in order to give an intima-
tion of my presence, as I did not choose to play
the part of an eavesdropper, nor to continue a
listener to affairs of family privacy. The Duchess
of Ardleigh almost immediately made her appear-
ance, followed by her son ; and a glance showed
me that they were both embarrassed. But the
Duchess, with the ready tact of good-breeding,
quickly recovered her self-possession ; and she said
with an affable smile, " I hope you have not been
kept waiting long. Miss Trafford ?"

I saw that the remark, though put with apolo-
getic courtesy, was in reality intended as a ques-

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIKS OP AN ACTRESS.

107

tion to elicit how long I had been waiting there,
and how much I might have heard of the discourse
that had taken place in the next room ; and there-
fore, to put the Duchess and the Marquis com-
pletely at their ease, I said, "I have only just ar-
rived, my lady."

I now proceeded to exhibit the books of cos-
tumes which I had brought ; and I could not help
noticing that the young Marquis, while apparently
entering into the spirit of the discussion which was
taking place, was nevertheless in reality thought-
ful and preoccupied. Two or three times I ciught
him gazing intently upon my countenance ; and I
found a vague suspicion of something which I did
not like floating through my mind. The thought
for an instant struck me that I would put on an
air of cold reserve towards Lord Dalrymple : but
the next moment I discarded the plan— and I even
blushed at my own arrogance in assuming that
there was any necessity for such a proceeding on
my part.

All of a sudden the door opened with a certain
degree of violence ; and in rushed that very per-
sonage whom I had seen lecturing the mendicant
on the steps in front of the mansion, and whom I
had regarded as so insignificant-looking an indi-
vidual.

" This is excellent !" he exclaimed : " nothing
could be more apropos ! In full conclave, I see !
— and here is Mr. Poaseblossom who has come
in the very nick of time to take part in the
council !"

" You know, my lord," said a voice speaking from
behind the door, " that I am as ignorant of theatri-
cal matters as — as — a horse is of algebra."

" Nonsense, Peaseblossom !" cried the insiguifi-
cant-looking personage, who I however began to
suspect must in reality be a more important one
than I had fancied. " Come in, I say !" — and
dragging his friend into the room, he closed the
door.

The person whom he had thus forcibly intro-
duced, was a short, stout, elderly gentleman, with
a certain sleekness of appearance which gave him
an air alike sanctimonious and submissive. He
had a red face, but with anything rather than a
jolly look : for the expression of his countenauce
was subdued and difndsnt. He wore a white
cravat, with very high shirt collars projecting in
sharp peaks beyond the corners of his mouth : a
black surtout coat — a buff waistcoat — and grey
trousers, which seemed very lar^e as far as the
knees and very scanty as they descended towards
the black gaiters which covered his shoes, com-
pleted his attire. Nothing could exceed the
mingled disdain and hauteur with which the
Duchess, slightly rising from her chair, inclined
her head towards this individual; while the Mar-
quis of Dalrymple nodded in a half-patronising,
half-compassionating manner, as if thus recog-
nising one whom he pitied and despised, but yet
could not find it in his heart to be altogether cold
or unkind to.

" Really, my lord," said the Duchess, address-
ing herself to the insignificant-looking personage,
whom I may as well at once announce to be none
other than the Duke of Ardleigh, " this interrup-
tion is most provoking "

"Provoking, my dear?" ejaculated the Duke,
with an air half astonished and half deprecatory :

" you surprise me ! I thought you would be do-
lighted to Lave the advice of myself and my friend
Peaseblossom."

" I told your Grace," said Mr. Peaseblossom,
who looked very uncomfortable indeed, " that we
had better not intrude; for I feel myself as much
out of place in such a conference as — as — a bishop
would be at a free-and-easy."

"Nonsense, Peaseblossom!" cried the Duke:
" her Grace is only joking. She is so funny some-
times !"

" My lord !" exclaimed the Duchess of Ardleigh,
drawing herself up with a queenly hauteur : " tlio
word which you have used is unknown in my dic-
tionary. But since you persist in remaining, have
the kindness not to interrupt the arrangements
which I am settling with Miss Trafford."

" Ah ! I am glad to make Miss Trafford's ac-
quaintance," ejaculated the Duke, who seemed a
good-natured man enough, but excessively frivo-
lous, weak-minded, and conceited. " Sit down,
Peaseblossom. Allow me to introduce you to Miss
Trafford. Ah! by the bye, you just now heard
me. Miss Traiford, reading a lecture to a man upon
the steps. I rather think I did it well. As an
hereditary legislator, and one who has the awful
responsibility of making laws for this country, I
cannot tolerate vagrancy on the part of the able-
bodied. Can I, Peaseblossom ?"

" Certainly not, my lord," responded the hanger-
on, wi.10 was now sitting diffidently upon the edge
of a chair, looking askance at the Duchess, of
whom he was evidently much in awe. " To me,
my lord, a sturdy mendicant is as great an eye-
sore as — as — a sore eye."

"Capital!" ejaculated the Duke, laughing and
rubbing his hands : " very good, Peaseblossom I
By the bye. Miss Trafford, you were excellent in
Juliet the other night. You died admirably ! Did
you not hear somebody cry out 'Encore 1 Tliat
was me. And I know that I only spoke the uni-
versal sentiment; for everybody wished to see you
dio over again."

" My lord," interposed the Duchess, her cheeks
flushed with mingled shame and indignation, and
her haughty lips wreathing with contempt, on uer
husband's account; " with your permission we will
proceed in the final arrangements which I am
making with Miss Trafford."

" Very good, my dear," ejaculated the Duke,
who maintained the most perfect good humour.
" Her Grace's observations, Peaseblossom, are al-
ways well-timed. She is so very facetious !"

" Facetious, my lord !" said the Duchess, dis-
dainfully. " I never condescend to jesting or
jokin;^."

" Of course not," inteijected Mr. Peaseblossom,
doubtless thinking to pay her Grace a compli-
ment. " Your ladyship knows your position bet-
ter. For your ladyship to be facetious, would
place you in as false a position as— as — an ele-
phant in a flower-garden."

Not the slightest notice did the haughty and
dignified Duchess of Ardleigh take of this singu-
larly attempted piece of flattery : but she turned
to address some observation to me.

" One word, rav dear, before you proceed 1"
ejaculated the Duke, as something appeared to
strike him. " Tlie principal piece, I believe, is to
be ' Henry the Eighth ;' and there are to be ama-

teurs. Well, then, why not let my friond Pease-
blossom play Henry the Eighth ?"

" My lord ! can you think of such a thiug ?" ex-
claimed the Duchess, now becoming really irri-
tated.

" Well then," rejoined the Duke, " as I know
he wants to make himself useful, let him beat the
big drum in the orchestra."

" I, my lord?" said Mr. Peaseblossom in dismay.
"I know no more of beating the big drum than —
than— a rhinoceros does of dancing a hornpipe "

"Ob, nonsense, Peaseblossom!" ejaculated the
Dulje: "there are to be amateurs ia the orchestra
as well as on the stage; and I intend to play the
first fiddle. I flatter myself I am rather good on
the violin. But you have heard me, Pease-
blossom ?"

" I have, my lord," answered the sycophant ;
"and I was as much delighted as— as— an ape with
a filbert."

" Well then, it's settled," said the Duke com-
placently. "I shall be First Fiddle — and you,
Peaseblossom, will be the Big Drum unless in-
deed you prefer the trombone ?"

"My lord," interjected the Duchess, bending
upon her husband a severe look, " I beg that you
will not interfere with my arrangements, nor seek
to drag in your friends, who in the first instance
are unwilling "

" Friends ?" cried the Duke : " there's only one
of them— worthy Ned Peaseblossom— who, as your
Grace is aware, is devotedly attached to our family.
But come, Peaseblossom — we will leave them to
their arrangements j you and I will retire to the
library— and I will play you half-a-dozen tunes on
my violin. I cracked it yesterday — but that is of
no consequence — and I've got another coming
home to-day. Ah ! by the bye, I will read you the
speech that I am learning, to be delivered at the
next meeting of my tenantry at Bentham Park.
Tou shall be there, Peaseblossom — you will be use-
ful—I will give you the clue to the points which I
waut to be particularly cheered. Then you your-
self can make a speech "

" Indeed, my lord," replied Mr. Peaseblossom,
•'I shall be as much out of place in making a
speech as — as — the Lord Chancellor would be as
Pantaloon in a pantomime."

"Nonsense!" cried the Duke. "Come to the
library, and I will give you a lesson in elocution."

The Duke and his friend now retired from the
drawing-room, evidently to the inQnite relief of
the Duchess, whom I caught glancing furtively at
me to ascertain what efi'ect this display of her hus-
band's ridiculous frivolity had produced. Of
course I assumed an air as if nothing extraor-
dinary had taken place. But I should add that
during the half- hour his Grace and Mr. Pease-
blossom had inflicted their presence upon us, the
Marquis of Dalrymple had remained pensive and
pre-occupied, taking little or no notice of what
was going on. Occasionally he looked at me : but
the moment I showed by ii glauce or a movement
that I was aware of being thus the object of bis
contemplation, he bent his eyes downward.

The arrangements for the private theatricals
were finnllv settled ; and I took my departure from
Ardleigh House.

CHAPTER XXr.

THE PEIVATE THEATEICALS.

The evening fixed for the private theatricals
arrived; and the largest apartment in Ardleigh
House had been splendidly fitted up for the pur-
pose. At that extremity where the stage was
erected, there was a side -door in the corner, opeu-
ing into another suite of rooms ; and as this door
was, so to speak, behind the scenes, it communi-
cated with every convenience for the proper ar-
rangement of the proceedings. Separate dressing
rooms were allotted to myself and those profes-
sionals whom I had engaged for the occasion, in-
cluding Mr. and Mrs. Norman. The amateurs,
both gentlemen and ladies, arrived in their car-
riages already dressed in the appropriate costumes
in which they had to appear. In front of the
stage there was accommodation for seven or eight
hundred spectators ; and these consisted of the
elite of the fashionable world. The Duchess had
succeeded in preventing her frivolous husband from
taking auy part in the evening's proceedings,
either on the stage or in the orchestra ; and Lady
Mangold had not persevered in her design of re-
presenting Venus after the conversation which
took place between herself and me, when I so sig-
nificantly gave her to understand that I was aware
of her theft at the linendraper's.

A peep from behind the scenes, previous to the
drawing up of the curtain, afforded a magnificent
coup d'ceil. The apartment was of a loftiness pro-
portionate with its spaciousness; and it was bril-
liantly lighted. Immediately in front of the stage
was the orchestra, consisting of a splendid band
accustomed to attend fashionable reunions ; and
immediately behind the orchestra was the seat oc-
cupied by the Duke and Duchess, their family, and
their most intimate friends. The Duke and
Duchess had several other children besides the
Marquis of Dalrymple ; and all except the
youngest, who was an infant, were present with
their parents. Lady Mangold was likewise there
— her wrinkled face expressing a vixenish discon-
tent— and her withered arms, which were bare to
the shoulders and laden with bracelets, keeping in
continuous motion with the exercise of agitating
her fan. Mr. Peaseblossom— in a white waist-
coat, a dress coat, and black pantaloons, and with
shirt- collars higher and more pointed than ever—
was seated next to the Duke.

Near the Duchess was a young lady of a grand
and remarkable beauty. She was tall ; and though
not more than eighteen years of age, had an aspect
that might be pronounced commanding. Her
dark hair was arranged in bands : her profile was
aquiline — her countenance a perfect oval. Her
eyes were large, dark, and full of fire — eyes that
seemed incapable of melting with those tender
emotions that usually influence the looks— eyes
that bespoke a strong mind as well as strong pas-
sions, and in whose lustrous orbs were condensed
worlds of disdain, hauteur, pride, and scornfulness.
The brows were thickly pencilled : but they were
well divided and nobly arched. The complexion
of this lady was pale, with the slightest and most
delicate tint of the brunette : her lips, which were

BLI-EIf PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3

109

somewbat full, had the luscious hue of the cherry
rather than the vivid redness of the coral. Her
neck was long, arching' proudly, and carrying
superbly rather than gracefully the head which was
poised upon it. Her figure was well formed —
sufficiently slender as yet for her youthful age —
but giving promise of expanding into ampler pro-
portions with the growth of womanhood. The
arms were superbly modelled ; and the dress of
dark purple velvet which she wore, seemed admir-
ably suited for her peculiar style of beauty. No —
it was not hiauti/ that invested her : for the term
" beauty " irresistibly associates itself in the mind
with all that is soft and charming and fascinating
in woman, especially when allied with youthful-
ness : but this lady was haughtily handsome— and
there was something in her which overawed rather
than attracted, and which instead of winning
tho heart of an observer, repelled and made it
afraid.

When peeping from behind the scenes, I could
not help suffering my gaze to linger upon this
lady whom I have just been describing, until I felt
the thought stealing in unto my mind that if I
happened to become acquainted with her I could
not possibly like her. Casting my looks slowly
over the assembled audience to the farther extre-
mity of the room, I was dazzled by the brilliant
scene. The ladies were all dressed with either
richness or elegance, and in very many instances
with both combined ; for this is not always the
case with female toilets in England, even in the
highest sphere of society. I was astonished at the
splendid galaxy of beauty which thus greeted my
Tision : for it cannot be denied that the British
aristocracy boasts the most remarkable specimens
of feminine loveliness which the civilized world can
produce. Lady Lilla Essendine was not present :
I have already said that she lived in comparative
seclusion, and mixed but little in that society
which, by her rank at least, she was entitled to
frequent.

The performances commenced j and in due
course I appeared in the character of Queen Cathe-
rine. As in respect to other dramatic personifi-
cations, I had made this character my own ; and
though I had carefully studied numerous critiques
upon the style in which Mrs. Siddons had repre-
sented it, yet I had done this more for the purpose
of instruction by comparison than for actual imi-
tation. It was my ambition to be an original
actress, if I may use the term. The costume which
1 wore was however so far like that in which Mrs.
Siddons was wont to appear that it most appro-
priately suited the fashion of the period in which
the incidents of the drama were cast. There is
not generally much applause at private theatricals
in high life : but when I made my appearance I
was received with an amount of enthusiasm which
could not be otherwise than highly flattering. A
glance however at the front seats showed mo that
Lady Mangold was lolling back with an air of af-
fected indifierence, and fanning herself with an
assumed listlessness, as if nothing extraordinary
nor interesting was taking place : while that proud
dark-eyed lady whom I have described, seemed to
be regarding me with a cold haughty disdain. The
Duchess favoured me with an affable smile of cor-
dial approbation; and just as the applause was
dying away, I distinctly heard the Duke say to the

toad-eating hanger-on, " What a pity it is,
Peaseblossom, that you refused to be Henry the
Eighth !"

1 was predetermined to throw all my energies
into the part which I had to perform, and to exer-
cise all my abilities. I cared nothing for the
superciliousness of Lady Mangold nor for the cold
disdain of the haughty dark-eyed lady. As on
former occasions, I identified myself with the cha-
racter which I was representing ; and I was sufli-
ciently carried away by the enthusiasm of my own
feelings to give effect to the various phases of the
personification, without violating the truth of na-
ture. My success was therefore complete.

The Marquis of Dalrymple performed as an
amateur in the same piece; and I could not help
observing that he surveyed me with unmistakable
admiration. This was not however visible to the
spectators: but it was remarked by some of those
who performed with me ; for during an interval
between the Acts, Mrs. Norman laughingly whis-
pered that I had evidently won the young Mar-
quis's heart ; and another professional actress said
to me, with a gay sly look, " I think, Miss Traf-
ford, there was even more admiration in a certain
quarter upon the stage than there was amongst
the audience — though even that was great."

"Indeed!" I observed, choosing to appear as if
I did not understand the allusion.

" Ob, yes !" replied the actress, who was a
good-natured young woman, of a cheerful dispo-
sition, and by no means mischievously inclined:
" the Marquis never once took his eyes off you.
Pray take care— or Lady Cecilia Urban will be-
come terribly jealous !"

" Lady Cecilia Urban ?" I said, now suddenly
recollecting that I had once before heard that
name mentioned, on the occasion when I was for
a few moments an unwilling listener to the dis-
course of the Duchess and her son.

" Yes, to be sure !" responded the actress.
" Have you not heard it rumoured that the Mnr-
quis of Dalrymple is to marry Lady Cecilia ?
Come here, and take a peep. You see that dark-
eyed girl, with the pale complexion and a cold
proud expression of countenance — but with the
large eyes that seem to burn "

" Yes," I answered. " And that is Lady Cecilia
Urban ?"

Here our colloquy was cut short by the ringing
of the bell for the drawing up of the curtain on
the final Act. When it was concluded, and the
curtain had again fallen, I heard the Duke's voice
vociferously shouting my name ; and it was echoed
by that of Mr. Peaseblossom. The cry now be-
came almost general ; and the young Marquis
hastened to accost me in tho adjoining apartment
which had served as the green-room.

" Will you permit me to lead you forward, Miss
Trafford ?" he said, proffering his hand.

" I think, my lord," I answered, with a smile,
" that it ought to be Mr. Norman, as he has per-
formed the part of the King."

"No— suffer his lordship to have that honour,"
interjected Mr. Norman— thus, though quite in-
nocently, throwing me into the very situation
that I was endeavouring to avoid.

" Come, Miss Trafford !" said the Marquis,
seizing my hand, while his countenance was glow-
ing with admiration and delight. "Do you not

110

TSZT.-E-S PE-RCT ; OK, TBtB MEMOIES OF AIT ACTEEgS.

beai- how tlicy clamour P And there is my father's
voice above all !"

I could not possibly refuse : I could no longer
hesitate. The Marquis of Dalrympio led me be-
fore the curtain : all the gentlemen present rose
up to give effect to their applause— while most
of the ladies waved their kerchiefs for a similar
aim. A glance however showed me that the
malignant old creature, Lady Mangold, was fan-
uing herself desperately; and another glance,
which, instinctively as it were, I flung at Lady
Cecilia Urban, was encountered by the lightnings
of jealousy aud rage which were visibly flashing
forth from her burning eyes. I acknowledged
with several low curtseys the applause which was
almost general ; and the young Marquis led me
off the stage.

On passing into the green-room, we found it
deserted : for the other performers had retired to
their dressing-rooms to prepare for the next piece.
I bad thrown myself half exhausted upon a chair
before I bad time to notice that I was alone there
with the Marquis. He hastened to present me
with some wine-and-water, which I took— for the
thought bad suddenly occurred to me that I must
not by any indication on my part show how I
suspected that I was the object of the young
nobleman's admiration. As he received the glass
from me again, be pressed my hand — slightly
enough, it is true— but yet with a significancy
that made me start and for a moment look in-
dignant.

"Oh, be not offended, Miss Trafford!" be ex-
claimed with entreaty in bis accents and enthu-
siasm in his looks, " Not for worlds would I
offend you ! No ! by heaven, I would sooner die
than merit your displeasure !"

" Enough, my lord," I said, somewhat coldly
and distantly ; and with a slight inclination of my
bead, I was about to leave the green-room.

" Stop one moment. Miss Trafford ! I beseech
you 1" cried the Marquis imploringly : " only one
instant !"

"You can have nothing to say to me, my
lord !"

" Then I will write to you !" he at once ejacu-
lated. " And fear not to receive my letter'— fear
nob to open it! — for by everything sacred, I am
incapable of giving you offence !"

I was immediately struck by a sense of the in-
convenience of becoming the object of such cor-
respondence as that with which the young Marquis
threatened me : and I therefore thought it better
to come to an explanation on the spot. Besides,
be was evidently generous-bearted — bis language
bad given me to understand the nature of the
proposal ho intended to make me — I had no right
to bo offended with him for loving me and mean-
ing honourably towards me — and I therefore
resolved at once to relieve him of all suspense,
and put an end to any vain hope that he might be
cherishing. I therefore stopped : but still it was
not for me to take the initiative in the explana-
tions that were to ensue.

The animation of joy beamed upon the really
handsome countenance of the young Marquis when
be perceived that I lingered ; and be went on to say,
" Oh ! it is better that I should tell you now in
words from my lips how much I love you, rather
than wait for an opportunity to communicate in

writing ! I have not known you long — our per-
sonal acquaintance indeed is only of a fovv days'
date — but on the stage I had previously admired
you— and since you have visited at Ardleigh House
I have learnt to love you. It is an honourable
proposal which I make. Away with all considera-
tions of rank and social differences "

He had now reached a point at which I could
becomingly interrupt him ; for there was no longer
the slightest doubt in respect to his meaning.

" My lord," I said, " hear me !" — and I spoke
firmly, though perhaps with a certain compas-
sionating expression in my tone. "I thank your
lordship for the honour which you would have in-
tended me : but I am unable to accept it. So
much generous frankness on your part demands an
equal confidence in return. My heart is engaged
and my troth is plighted to another !"

I cannot describe the effect which this announce-
ment produced upon the young Marquis of Dal-
rymple. He became pale as death : be staggered
back, and seemed as if he were about to fall.

" For heaven's sake compose your feelings, my
lord !" I said, smitten with affright. " Some
one may come suddenly! For your sake— for
mine "

" Yes, yes — I will be calm !" he said : " but, O
God! you know not the blow that you have
stricken me ! Tell me — are your affections irrevo-
cably engaged ? are your vows pledged beyond re-
call ? Do not — do not think," be hastily added,
" that I would seek to persuade you to play a per-
fidious or ungenerous part towards him whom I
must regard as my rival : but if there be any hope
for me — even the slightest "

"There is none, my lord!" I interrupted him.
"And now, for heaven's sake, assume a calmness
of demeanour as if nothing of all this had taken
place !"

With these words I glided from the green-room ;
and in the adjoining apartment I met Mr. and
Mrs. Norman, appareUed for the next piece. I
had so far regained my own self-possession that
they did not perceive there was anything peculiar
with me; and as I was not to appear in the after-
pieces, I began to busy myself in seeing that all
the arrangements were progressing favourably. In
a few minutes I again beheld the young Marquis,—
who looked exceedingly pensive, though evidently
exerting every effort to conceal the sources of his
trouble. I did not avoid him : I spoke kindly to
him — and endeavoured by my manner to give him
to understand that though I could not possibly be
angry at his conduct^ yet that there was really no
hope, and that he must look upon me only as a
friend, if he thought fit so to regard me.

The after-pieces progressed to the satisfaction of
the audience; and at about eleven o'clock the per-
formances were over. All the ladies and gentle-
men who bad played as amateurs descended from
the stage into the body of the apartment, to join
their respective friends or relatives ; while we pro-
fessionals (as I may technically term ourselves) to
the number of about a dozen, were assembled in
the green-room. The young Marquis had likewise
left us ; and we were conversing on the satisfactory
mode in which the entertainments had been con-
ducted, when the steward of the ducal household
made his appearance.

" I am commissioned. Miss," he said, address-

ELLEIf PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE83.

Ill

ing himself aside to me, '•' to acquaint you, on the
part (if lier Grace, that supper is provided for
yourself and your companions in an adjoining
room :"— then in a low whisper the steward added,
" Her Grace would cheerfully have had yov,,
Miss, with her in the grand banqueting-room :
but "

He stopped short, and glanced round towards
my companions, who were grouped a little apart.
His look and manner were as much as to imply
that although the Duchess of Ardleigh would have
admitted me into the sphere of her own aristocratic
circle,— yet that she could not possibly extend the
same favour to my companions. Had it not been
for this slight which was thrown upon them, I
sliould have at once accepted on my own and their
behalf the separate entertainment which was pro-
vided for us. Indeed, if I had previously given
the matter a thought at all, it assuredly was not
with the idea that we were to be invited to partake
of the banquet given to the guests. But I was
suddenly fired with indignation at the treatment
which my companions were receiving, and in which
I also was included ; and I said aloud ta the ste-
ward, " We beg to decline the supper which her
Grace offers us through you."

The man looked astonished, and seemed as if he
could scarcely believe his own ears. The Normans
and the other actors and actresses instantaneously
comprehended that some indignity had been
offered, and that I had thus vindicated the inde-
pendent spirit of myself and them. But still they
gazed upon me with curiosity to know what it all
meant.

" Ladies and gentlemen," I said, " her Grace the
Duchess of Ardleigh offers us a supper to be par-
taken of by ourselves in a separate room from that
where her Grace will entertain her own guests.
I have thought fit on your behalf and my own to
decline the proposal."

There was a murmur of applause on the part of
my companions ; and the steward, with a slight
bow, said, " Very well, Miss : I will report your
message to her Grace."

He thereupon retired. I did not choose to
wound the feelings of the Normans and of the
other professionals by informing them that a dif-
ferent treatment would have been observed to-
wards myself were it not for their presence : but I
has(eucd to represent to them that I considered an
indignity had been offered to the whole of us by a
proposal which was to consign us like a parcel of
menials to a separata and inferior table. Again
was my conduct applauded ; and I said, " l^a\s,
let us lose no time in taking our departure from
the mansion."

But at that moment the door was thrown open
by the steward; and the Duchess made her ap-
pearance, closely followed by her son the Marquis,
with the Duke and Mr. Peaaeblossom bringing up
the rear.

" My dear Miss Trafford," said the Duchess,
" I am really much concerned at a message which
the steward has brought back to me. I thought
that yourself and your companions would have ac-
cepted the little banquet "

" Not, my lady," I said, " when it was prof-
fered under circumstances which were calculated
to wound the feelings of those %vho had done their
best to interest and amuse your Grace's guests.

We were considered respectable enough to breathe
for a while the same atmosphere as yourselves :
but when our task was over, that respectability
suddenly seemed to cease. Ladies -and gentlemen
belonging to your own circle of society have, as
amateurs, been for the last three hours in our
company: but even tliey seem to feel that with
the close of the entertainments a barrier has sud-
denly sprung up between us and them. I am
aware, my lady, that there are immoral persons in
the dramatic world — but are there none in the
sphere of aristocracy ? and is the whole aristocracy
deemed characterless because of the misdeeds of
some of its members ? Why, then, should all who
belong to the stage be put under a common ban ?
Your Grace entrusted me with the selection of
those who were to appear before you this evening ;
and I would not have been guilty of such a viola-
tion of the trust confided to me as to introduce
into your presence any with whom I myself was
ashamed to associate."

The Duchess listened to me with the utmost at-
tention—indeed, I will say with every appearance
of a gracious affability. I grew warm as I pro-
ceeded : but if I spoke enthusiastically, yet it was
without vehemence or passion.

" Miss Trafford speaks the truth, mother !" ex-
claimed the young Marquis, as he stood forward
with a flushing countenance ; "and as I have been
permitted to join those ladies and gentlemen as an
amateur, I shall ask their leave to sup with them
in their own room and at their own table."

" But this cannot be allowed !" exclaimed the
Duke, now pushing his way to the front. "It
would be all very well if Miss Trafford only were
concerned would it not be all very well, Pease-
blossom ? Come, give us your opinion, man !"

" I, my lord ?" said the individual thus appealed
to. " I am no more competent to decide in such
a case than— than — an ass between two bundles of
hay."

" Miss Trafford," said the Duchesa, with an ap-
pealing look— and yet she did not the while throw
off that proud dignity which was habitual with
her,— "I am sure your own good sense will con-
vince you that nothing was farther from my pur-
pose than to offer the slightest indignity' •"

" We thank your Grace for this assurance," I
answered : " but under existing circumstances we
must persist in declining to accept of your Grace's
entertainment."

The Duchess could really say no more; and
bowing with a somewhat distant air, she retired
from the room,— the Duko and Mr. Peaseblossoui
following her. The Marquis of Dalrymplo how-
ever remained behind; and he said, "Ob, Miss
Trafford ! I would not for worlds that this hud
happened ! When I left yourself and your com-
panions immediately after the fall of the curtain,
it was to ask my mother what arrangements had
been made for your entertainment. Conceive
therefore my astonishment — my indignation — I
will even add my disgust — when I learnt "

" I beg that your lordship will say no more
upon the subject," I interrupted him : " but on
behalf of myself and my companions, I express
the gratitude which is due for the courtesy, the
kindness, and the goo 1 intentions your lonlship
has displayed towards us. Wo will now take our
departure."

113

ELIiEN PEECY ; OB,, THE MEilOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

"Eiit is there nolhiug to be done?" esclaitned
the young nobleman, deeply concerned. " I would
not for the worJd that you should go away im-
pressed with aa idea of the iuhospitality of Ard-
leigh House !"

" Tliere is nothing further to be done, my lord,"
I replied, " than for us to take our departure :—
and again we thank you for your courtesy."

The Marquis of Dalrymple slowly quitted the
room with an exceeding sorrowful countenance j
and when he had retired, Mr. and Mrs. Norman
and the other actors and actresses signified their
approval of the course which I bad adopted. We
repaired to our respective dressing-rooms; and it
happened that the Normans and myself were the
last of the professionals to leave the mansion. As
we passed through the hall, we beheld the bril-
liant company proceeding from the theatre to the
banqueting -room; and as I glanced towards
them, my looks encountered those of Lady Cecilia
Urban. She was leaning on the arm of some
middle-aged gentleman; and her large coal-black
eyes flung upon me a glance of the haughtiest
disdain, which was accompanied with a slight
elevation of the head as a further expression of
her scorn. My self-possession was at that mo-
ment complete — and all the more so inasmuch as
I felt that I had just been doing my duty in re-
ference to the rejected supper. I therefore suf-
fered a slight smile of contempt and pity to waver
upon my lips ; and as I looked a little further
along the brilliant line of guests passing through
the hall, I caught eight of the wrinkled harridan
Lady Mangold, who was leaning on the arm of
an old beau as artificially made up as herself. She
bent upon me a look of exceeding spitefulness;
and then tossing her head — which made the
plumes wave above an immense yellow turban —
she fanned herself vehemently.

On descending the steps, we found the Marquis
of Dalrymple in readiness to hand Mrs. Norman
and myself into the carriage, as the last delicato
tribute of courtesy which he had the opportunity
of paying on that occasion. On the following day
the Duchess sent me a very handsome sum of
money for myself and those who had performed
with me, — together with a costly and exquisitely
chased bracelet in a box, addressed " To Miss Traf-
ford, vfith the Duchess of Ardleigh's regards."

CHAPTEE XXII.

THE UNACKNOWLEDGED WIFE.

A MONTH passed after the private theatricals at
Ardleigh House ; and it was now the end of
November, in the year of 1840 of which I am
writing. Three months had elapsed since the
marriage of Juliet — three months since the death
of my aunt. I received a letter from my cousin
Harry Wakefield, informing me that the business
which had taken him to New York was progressing
favourably though slowly— and that while on the
one hand he had the satisfaction of knowing that
he should be enabled to manage the affair well on
Mr. Macdonald's behalf, yet that he was grieved
oo the other hand to think that several more
months might elapse before he might hope to re-

turn to his native land. He assured me that his
afHiction for the loss of his mother had mellowed
down into a pious resignation ; and in respect to
myself, his letter abounded in the tenderest ec-
pressions. He begged me to answer him without
delay ; and this I did — but I was deficient in the
moral courage that was required to commence
breaking to him the secret in respect to the pro-
fession wherein I was embarked.

One night I had retired to bed at the usual hour
after having appeared at the theatre ; and sleep
soon fell upon my eyes. Again did it seem to me
as if I were dreaming in that same sense which
about a month back had led me to suppose that
strange shapes appeared in the room : but this time
my vision was shorter— far less horrible in its com-
mencement— and without the feelings of that
hideous rightmare which on the former occasion
had oppressed me. As I slowly opened my eyes, I
distinctly beheld a figure in a white garment in
the middle of the room:— this time it did not fly
the moment I began to move ; and by the light of
the taper which I was accustomed to leave burn-
ing upon the toilet-table, I recognised Juliet.

She was in her night-dress ; and the rich masses
of her hair were flowing over her shoulders. Her
countenance had a distressed, indeed an anguished
look; and the instant she saw that I was awake,
she threw herself into my arms.

" Good heavens, Juliet !" I exclaimed, smitten
with astonishment and grief at tiiis occurrence :
" what is the matter with you ? is there anything
wrons; ?"

" Hush, dearest Ellen !" she said : " or my
parents will hear us conversing together — and
they will bo alarmed; for it is nearly three in the
morning!"

" But what is the matter, dear Julio ?" I in-
quired in the most painful suspense. " Are you
ill ? have you anything to distress you ?"

" I scarcely know what is afilieting me," sho
replied. " Oh ! I have done my best to conceal
it! — but there is something which tortures mo —
a vague misgiving — an undefined suspicion — a
presentiment of evil, without the slightest power
to surmise what it can be ! At length I could
endure it no longer : my rest was broken with
horrible dreams— and I could not resist the im-
pulse of seeking your chamber, my dear Ellen !"

Having thus spoken, Juliet took my morning
wrapper ; and enveloping herself in it, she sat
down by the side of the bed.

" Tell me, Julie," I said, much troubled on her
account, and with all kinds of misgivings revived
in my mind in respect to that inauspicious mar<
riage of her's, as I could not help considering it
to be ; " tell me — this is not the first time that you
have sought my chamber in the middle of tho
night ?"

" Ah !" she exclaimed, ia visible surprise, "you
know then "

" I know only that the incident of to-night ac-
counts for something which occurred upwards of a
month back, when methought that I beheld some
one in my room : but being more than half asleep
at the time, I attributed it, on awaking, to a
dream."

" Yes— it was I, Ellen !" rejoined Juliet. " The
same thoughts which have been excruciating ma
to-night, tortured mo then; and yielding to aa

ELLEN PEECTJ OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACXEESS.

113

ELLEN PERCY.

impulse which was at first irresistible, I came to
make you my confidante— to seek solace in your
aims. But ashamed of myself, I fled precipitately
from your chamber — and had hoped that my
flight was noiseless likewise."

" Now tell me, dearest Julie," I said, in the
most soothing manner, " what is it that afllicts
you P what is it that thus troubles your night's
repose ?"

" Perhaps you will think me very foolish, my
dear Ellen," answered Juliet, — " and indeed now I
am with you, those vague horrid thoughts go out
of my mind. It is thus that in the daytime I am
often completely happy — and that even when the
No. 15. — Ellen Peecy.

desponding mood comes over me, I am enabled to
conceal it. I am half inclined to speed back to
my chamber, begging that you will look upon this
incident as if it had not occurred "

"No, my dear friend," I answered, "that is im-
possible ! Now that you are here, you must indeed
make me your confidante. Ob, Julie ! you know
not how it distresses me to see that you arc un-
happy !"

The tears were trickling down my cheeks ; and
again did Juliet throw herself into my arras, with
her own flung around my neck. She wept and
sobbed bitterly for a few minutes ; and at length
resuming her seat, she wiped away her tears, —

114

EILEN PERCY; OB, THE MEM0IK3 OP AN ACTEESS.

murmuring amidst the last convulsiveness of a sob,
" Now my heart is relieved !"

"But tell me, Juliet," I said, "what is it that
thus distresses you ?"

"In the first place, dear Ellen," she replied,
bending down her head, " I feel that 1 am in a

way to become a mother and Oh ! though ;v

wedded wife, yet under the stern pressure of cir-
cumstances shall I be compelled to leave my home
—to go and bury myself in some seclusion — and
there give birth to my babe, as if I were, a fallen,
guilty creature, and that infant were the offspring
of shause !"

"Poor Julie!" I said: but unwilling to wound
her feelings more deeply than they were already
distressed by reminding her that such a result was
to have been anticipated from so inauspicious and
secret a marriage, I hastened to assume a more
consolatory tone, — adding, " But in eight or nine
months more you will be proclaimed a wife before
the world——"

" Yes— but in six months my babe will be
born !" she mournfully interrupted me. " Oh !
all the anticipated pride of a mother which I first
experienced on feeling that I should become one,
is absorbed in the dread of being looked upon as a
dishonoured and degraded woman before that
secret of my marriage can be proclaimed ! And
this is not all that distresses me— this is not all
that tortures me ! I have no certificate of my

marriage "

" None ?" I exclaimed, with a terrible strength-
ening of those misgivings which at the time of
that marriage I had entertained, but which my
visit to Embledon had subsequently set at rest.
"But your husband — Lord Frederick Eavens-

cliflPe "

" He omitted to obtain a certificate from Mr.
Croft," responded Juliet with a profound sigh.

" Everything, you recollect, was so hurried "

" But let not this distress you," I said. " You

Lave but to write to Mr. Croft at Embledon "

" Frederick has promised to do so on several
occasions," rejoined Juliet : " but he continues to
neglect it. This evening, while you were at the
theatre, he called: I again spoke to him on the
subject: he answered me petulantly— it was the
first time that he had ever spoken angrily— and I
was cruelly distressed ! It was that doubtless which
gave me those hideous dreams — it haunted my

mind "

"But you yourself might have written to Mr.
Croft at Embledon ?" I suggested.

" I asked Frederick this evening," continued
Juliet, " to write at once himself, or to suffer me
to write — for the desk was open upon the table.
But while he enjoined me on no account to take

such a step and Ah! I cannot conceal from

myself that the reason he gave was a poor one

he evasively promised to be sure and write

to-morrow."

" And what reason did he give," I asked, " that
1/ou should not write ?"

" He said it was unbecoming and improper, and
that Mr. Croft would think it exceedingly strange
that such an application should come from me.
Ob, Ellen !" continued Juliet, with passionate vehe-
menc(*,'though in a low voice; " if anything should
happen to Mr. Croft— if he should die suddenly,
without this certificate being procured — good

heavens, what a horror ! for who would believe that
such a marriage had ever taken place ? And I
should be disgraced — and my poor babe would bo
born in shame Oh, Ellen! you can now under-
stand wherefore at times my thoughts overpower
me and my soul is tortured with the cruellest ap-
prehensions ! I cannot fancy that Frederick has

in any way deceived me No ! no !" and she

shuddered as if with an ice- chill as she spoke.

"You must to-morrow insist, Julie," I said —
" but insist with delicacy and tenderness, and not
peremptorily nor passionately — that Lord Frederick
writes at once to Mr. Croft for the certificate
which is indeed so essential to your welfare. I
wonder that your parents did not take the pre-
caiXtiou to see that the certificate was duly
given P"

" They fancied that either Lord Frederick or
myself received it," responded Juhet. " I have
judged this much by what they have since said ;
and I have not dared tell them that no certificate
was ever given at all. But I repeat, Frederick
could not possibly have deceived me in any way-
there were no means for such deception, even if he
were capable of it. Tell me, dearest EUou — what
is your opinion P— tell me that there were really

no means of perfidy being committed "

" I do not see how deception could have been
practised," I answered. "That you were married
by a special license and by a real clergyman are

facts which cannot be doubted "

" Oh, yes, Ellen ! on these points there can be
no doubt !" cried Juliet, catching at the assurance.
"And, now, my sweet friend, do you not think

that I am very foolish But no ! you do not ! —

your own countenance is grave ! What is passing
in your mind, dear Ellen P"

" Can you wonder, Julie," I asked, " that I
should be distressed at thus finding that you are
not so happy as I could have wished you to be ?
Take my advice, dear Julie, and press Lord Frede-
rick to write to Mr. Croft to-morrow ; and if lie
will not, you yourself must write ! It is not Mr.

Croft only who might die but remember, JuUc,

we are all mortal do not, do not think that I

am speaking gloomily but this is the occasion

for serious discourse and therefore I would

observe that if anything should happen to Lord

Frederick himself "

" Oh ! I too have thought of that !" said Juliet,
with a visible shudder ; " and, Oh ! what a dreadful
calamity if I were left a widow without the means
of proving that I had been a wife— a mother, with-
out the power to show that my ofiTspring is honour-
ably born ! Yes, yes, Ellen — for a thousand rea-
sons I 'must have that certificate ! And now I
comprehend that the absence thereof is the true
source of all the fears which agitate me. I am
rendered nervous — and then every kind of appre-
hension seizes upon me, or else steals insidiously
into my soul. Oh! Ellen — though but a ballet-
dancer whom so many doubtless contoiimed, yet
have I my own pride, — the pride of good principles
— the pride of conscious rectitude — the pride of one
who had passed triumphantly through the ordeal
of temptation !— and it is dreadful not to be able
to look the world boldly in the face ! To know
oneself virtuous, and yet incur the chance of being
deemed fallen and guilty — to be a lawfully wedded
wife, and yet be at any moment exposed to the

ELIEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTSESB.

115

most terrible suspicion- it is euough to kill

me !"

Juliet had spoken passionately ; and I now said
all that I could to console her. After awhile she
became comforted; and embracing me affection-
ately, she stole back to her own apartment.

I slept but little for the remainder of that night :
my mind was agitated with vague doubts and in-
definite misgivings, which however for compas-
sion's sake I had studiously veiled as much as pos-
sible from Juliet. Paint as a tingling in the ears,
or as the sound of far distant bells, was there a
suspicion in my brain that Juliet was in some way
or another the victim of treachery — or at least
that everything was not precisely as it had been
represented. Though Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's
conduct was secret, yet this was no reason that it
should not have been straightforward ; and I felt
that it had not been. Wherefore his hesitation to
procure ithe certificate ? Was he already getting
tired of Juliet, and preparing the way for a dis-
avowal of the marriage ? — was the clergyman in
league with him for this purpose ? If such were the
case, I felt that the Normans as Juliet's parents,
and myself as her bosom-friend, would be looked
upon as partial and one-sided witnesses if the
matter were eventually brought before a court of
justice. But it is useless to chronicle here all the
varied, and to some extent conflicting reflections
which passed through my mind as the result of
that scene with Juliet. Suflice it to say that I
was now determined to see her extricated from the
false and perilous position in which she was placed
by the want of the certificate ; and I even made
up my mind to take another journey to Embledon,
if it were necessary, to see Mr. Croft upon the
subject.

When we met at the breakfast-table in the
morning, Juliet's appearance was precisely the
same as usual, with the exception perhaps that she
was a little paler. She glanced significantly at me,
as much as to thank me for the advice and conso-
lation I had offered her during the night, and also
to enjoin me to keep the incident secret from her
parents. Mr. and Mrs. Norman had to attend the
theatre at about noon. The presence of Lord
Frederick Eavensclifie might soon be expected;
and as I had no rehearsal to attend that day, I
went out shopping, in order that I might afford
Juliet an opportunity of being alone with the
young nobleman.

I proceeded on foot — for I wished to take some
exercise ; and I could not help thinking as I went
along the streets, that love is the source of almost
as much misery as it is the spring of happiness in
this world. It teaches its votaries the solemn
lesson that there can be no felicity without its
drawback, and that there is not within human ex-
perience a perfect amount of happiness. In my
own case the example was already illustrated. De-
votedly was I attached to my cousin Harry ; and
yet, through the very fear of having my heart's
love blighted by the loss of his own, was I still
keeping from him the secret of that profession
wherein I had embarked. The world had recog-
nised me as a great actress ; and yet I trembled to
avow the secret of my fame to him whom I felt it
should most rejoice !

While thus meditating, I had reached Bedford
Square ; and as I was turning into it, I beheld the

dashing phaeton of Mr. Parks suddenly draw up.
He sprang out, exclaiming, " Why, my dear Ellen,
you are almost a stranger now ! You never "

But he stopped short on finding that I did
not take the hand which was proffered me. My
demeanour was coldly indignant ; and I perceived
a guilty look rapidly expanding upon the ignoble
countenance of the lawyer. Quickly however re-
gaining his self-possession— or I might rather say
his effrontery— he said somewhat sulkily, " Well,
Miss Percy, what is the meaning of this ?"

"If I proclaim all the accusations I have to
make against you," was my answer, " you would
find it a difficult task to vindicate yourself."

" Grood God !" he exclaimed, now looking ex-
cessively frightened— and indeed becoming pale aa
death, — " what on earth do you mean ? How
could I possibly have offended you? You must
have been listening to some falsehoods "

" Mr. Parks, your looks are not those of a man
who thinks himself maligned— but rather those of
one who pleads guilty beforehand to the charges
that can be brought against him. The captive
will look forth through the narrow loop-holes of
his cell; and your conscience, Mr. Parks, however
strong be your efforts to imprison it in the pro-
fundities of your breast, looks forth from your
ey«s."

"I can't understand you," he said, glancing
towards his liveried coachman to see whether the
domestic overheard what was passing. " Come a
little further off, and explain what you mean."

As the reader is aware, I had been partially
awaiting the first opportunity, without actually
seeking it, to tell Mr. Parks that the foul treachery
of himself and his wife was known to me. I there-
fore did not refuse to avail myself of the present
occasion : but at the same time I did not choose
to make a scene before the servant or in a public
place. I therefore walked a little aside with Mr.
Parks ; and then stopping short, I suddenly looked
him full in the countenance, — saying firmly and
abruptly, " You handed me over to the villain St.
Clair!"

So far from being overwhelmed by this accusa-
tion. Parks appeared as if he all in a moment
experienced some considerable sensation of relief;
so that it immediately struck me he had expected
to hear a different or a graver charge than the one
I had just brought against him.

" What do you mean ?" he demanded coarsely,
and almost brutally.

" I mean that on the night when a panic was
created at the theatre, at the exhibition of wild
beasts, you consigned me, senseless and inanimate,
to the power of a villain. But as he himself
doubtless informed you, I escaped from his fiendish
designs "

" Now listen to me, Ellen," said Mr. Parks, as-
suming a dogged air of mingled defiauce aud
authority. " I am not going to have any fending
or proving with you : you may think what you like
— and if your opinion is evil, I shall not take tlio
trouble to vindicate myself. You may either come
to the house, or you may keep away, as you
think fit. But there is one thing I would have
you know — which is that you had better not speak
ill of me or Mrs. Parks behind our backs ; and you
had better beware how you make us your enemies.
Now don't fire up ! — you ain't on the stage at thia ,

116

ELLEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACIEESS.

moment — and you look quite handsome enough
without sending; the colour to mount to those cheeks
of yours. I have a few more words to say. Tou
must be cautious how you deal with Mrs. Parks
and me. We know a secret connected with your

affairs nothing that you yourself know— no-

thing even that you suspect— and one which per-
haps it were better that you should tiever know.
It ia a secret, Ellen, that if whispered in your ear,
would make your proud head bend — would wring
the bitterest tears from your eyes, and harrow your
heart. This is no empty threat. As there is a
living God above us, it is the truth ! Be wise
therefore "

" Good heavens !" I exclaimed, in mingled hor-
ror and consternation ; " what do you mean, Mr.
Parks ? I beseech you to tell me ! There is no-
thing in the world that I have ever done the ex-
posure of which could produce all these frightful
effects !"

" I tell you it is nothing that you have done,"
replied the lawyer : " but still it is something that
regards you most closely. It is something that
you do not know nor even suspect : but I tell you,
Ellen, that if it were proclaimed you would crouch
down in the veriest shame "

" Mr. Parks," I interrupted him, in a paroxysm
of terrific anguish, " for God's sake tell me what
you mean ! This suspense is dreadful ! Leave me
not in it ! I will forgive yourself and your wife
for whatsoever you may have done to me "

" And what have we done ?" he asked ab-
ruptly.

" I have already told you," was my response :
"you would have ruined me — you would have
blasted my character — you surrendered me
up "

"Enough of all this!" he ejaculated: and even
in the midst of the terrific agitation I experienced,
I again noticed that he looked as if he had suddenly
sustained a sensation of relief. " It is sufScieut
for you to know that you are thus far in my power ; '
and therefore take heed how you at any time utter i
disrespectful things against Mrs. Parks and my- I
self."

With these words the lawyer abruptly quitted
me ; and leaping into his phaeton, he was instan-
taneously driven away. I leant against the railings
of a house for support: I felt as if I were about
to faint, until two ladies came up and kindly asked ,
if I felt ill ? Then I regained my self-possession ; I
and thanking them, I hurried along. What could |
Mr. Parks have meant ? He had known me from I
my infancy — he was acquainted with all the cir- I
cumstances which regarded my earliest years. ;
Could it be possible that there was some stigma
resting upon my birth ? It was the first time that ,
ever such a suspicion had been excited within me.
And yet if it were so, how could the knowledge !
thereof produce such terrible effects as those with '
which he had menaced me ? I could not be held
responsible for a mother's frailty. But while I ]
was thus reflecting, back to my memory came that ]
dim and shadowy recollection which had seemed to [
float in my brain like a scarcely perceptible vapour j
in a far-off horizon, — a recollection that at times !
had haunted me like the vague and ill-defined im-
pression of a troubled dream. A man fondling me
upon his knee, then pressing me to his heart and
sobbing bitterly— then a woman taking me from

his arms, straining me to her own bosom, and
weepiQg convulsively — and all this associated with

some dark gloomy place Good heavens ! was

there any reality in the scene which, if it had ever
occurred at all, must have belonged to my earliest
years ?

Long was it ere I could subdue the agitation
into which that interview with Mr. Parks had
thrown me : but when I began to regain a certain
degree of composure, I endeavoured to persuade
myself that it was a mere idle threat invented by
the unprincipled attorney for the purpose of over-
awing me. Yet I could not succeed in beating
into my brain the conviction that it was so : it
was a surmise wherein I sought to obtain a com-
plete refuge from thoughts vaguely horrible, but
where I only succeeded in obtaining such refuge
partially. Instead of stopping, I wandered about,
harassed by my reflections, — until at length I
ventured to return to Hunter Street.

I had been absent thence for nearly three
hours; and on my return found Juliet radiant
with happiness. Indeed she was so completely
absorbed in the sources of her own joy, that she
failed to notice there was anything extraordinary
or peculiar with me ; and I was by no means sorry
to escape questioning and all the affectionate im-
portunities of friendship.

"Frederick has done everything that I asked of
him !" said Juliet, hastening to meet me as I
entered the room where she was previously alone.
"He hesitated not a moment! Indeed it was
almost of his own accord that he began writing
the letter to Mr. Croft, requesting him to send the
certificate. And then too, with the most genuine
frankness, he showed me what he had written
before he sealed the letter ; and he left the letter
himself for me to convey to the post. Oh, Ellen !
how sorry, — how sorry I am that I ever for a mo-
ment mistrusted him !"

Juliet showed me the letter, which was duly
addressed to "the Rev. Mr. Croft, Embledon,
Warwickshire;" and as I had on my bonnet and
shawl, I offered to go and take it to the post.
Juliet thankfully assented ; and on my way to
execute the commission, I said to myself, " Un-
feignedly rejoiced am I that her husband should
have done this ! After all, he has been wronged
by the suspicions of both of us: but heaven be
thanked that those suspicions are not now jus-
tified !"

The reader may thus perceive that a complete
revulsion of sentiment had taken place in my
mind in respect to Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ;
and I was truly delighted to reflect that Juliet,
though still an unacknowledged wife before the
world, was nevertheless the acknowledged wife of
him who some eight or nine months thence might
acknowlodge her openly. In my own moods of
sadness it has ever been a relief to me to observe
the happiness of others ; and thus, from this inci-
dent which had occurred so favourably to Juliet's
views, I derived consolation for my own spirit
which had been so wounded during the interview
with Mr. Parks.

On returning to Hunter Street after having
posted the letter addressed to the Eev. Mr. Croft,
I was informed that a gentleman had called to see
me and that he was waiting in the dining-room.
Thither I repaired j and I found that mj visitor

ELLEJf PEECX; OE, THE MEilOIES OP AS ACXEESS.

11/

was none other than Mi, Peaseblossom. He was
dressed in bis usual style, — the points of his shirt
collar projecting out very far : but metbought
that there was a certain knowingness in his coun-
tenance which it did not generally wear, and which
therefore seemed to herald him as the bearer of a
message or the agent of an object of some im-
portance.

" Tour most obedient servant, Miss Trafford,"
he said, rbing from bis seat and making me a pro-
found bow. " You will perhaps be as much sur-
prised to receive a visit from me as it — as if — the
crocodile in the Zoological Gardens had introduced
himself to your presence. But when you consider
that I am honoured with the friendship of a cer-
tain family whose same it is unnecessary to men-
tion "

" Proceed, Mr. Peaseblossom," I said. " I pre-
sume that the Duchess "

"Not a bit oi it," ejaculated the visitor:
" heaven forbid ! If she were to know anything
about it she would treat me worse than — than — a
nigger is treated by a Virginian planter. In fact.
Miss Trafford, I feel that I am as unfit for the
mission which I have undertaken — as — as — a
baboon to escort the Queen to the dinner-table."

" Pray explain yourself, sir," I said, wondering
to what all this was to lead.

" I am just going to make the endeavour to do
80, Miss Trafford," rejoined Mr. Peaseblossom. " I

need not tell you that "

But here he stopped short— fidgeted with his
broad-brimmed hat, which he held between his
k^ees — and sat so nervously on his chair that I
fancied every moment he was about to fall off.

"Mr. Peaseblossom," I said, "may I request
that you will explain yourself ?"

"The truth is. Miss Trafford," he stammered
out, " the weight of the mission entrusted to me
is better fitted for the back of an elephant — than
— than — for that of an ass. However, since you
are pleased to listen, I need not remind you that
you are very, very beautiful — because that would
be the same as telling a rose it is sweet — or a lily
that it is fair — or — or " — he pressed his brow as
if in search of another metaphor — and abruptly
added, " or the devil that he is black."

" Keally, Mr. Peaseblossom "

"I know I'm tedious, Miss Trafford: but as
Dogberry says, I would bestow all my tediousness
upon you. WeU, Miss Trafford," continued Mr.

Peaseblossom, " you are beautiful "

" Sir, I must beg that you will desist from these
absurd compliments :" and I made a movement as
if to rise from my seat.

" Stop, Miss Trafford !" he exclaimed ; " it is
not I that am speaking. True, it is my tongue
that gives utterance to the words— but it is only on
behalf of another. "We will not mention names :
but I daresay you can understand — for I come as
secret, you know, as — as— a thief down an area to
steal a leg of mutton. He who has sent me is of

noble birth — you can understand that much

and what is more, he appreciates beauty. It's a
splendid thing for you. Miss Trafford— a thousand
a-year, to be settled on you beyond recall— and an
extra thousand as long as the connexion lasts.
There ! that's the overture — as nice as— as — the
overture to an opera."

Ambiguous though Mr. Peaseblossom's verbiage

was, yet I could not possibly fail to comprehend
the insolent, the flagrantly insulting proposal which
was thus made me. I had never once seen the
Marquis of Dalrymple since the evening of the
private theatricals at Ardleigh House ; and I cer-
tainly never expected to hear from him in such a
form as this.

" Mr. Peaseblossom," I said, my cheeks colour-
ing with indignation as I rose up from my seat,
" in the first place a man of your years ought to
be ashamed to suffer himself to become an emissary
from a dishonourable libertine ; and in the second
place I must inform you that I am as painfully
deceived in the character of that individual as I
am outraged and indignant at the proposal it-
self."

" But, you know. Miss Trafford, that he could
not possibly marry you!" said Mr. Peaseblossom.

"Enough, sir!" I ejaculated: "you have al-
ready said too much. Begone ! — and consider
yourself fortunate that I do not summon the foot •
man to eject you from the house !"

" Eeally, Miss Trafford," said Mr. Peaseblossom,
looking quite dismayed, astonished, and frightened ;
" this conduct on your part— bo unexpected — so
violent "

" Violent f " I ejaculated. " No, sir ! I am
not violent : but I am incensed ! Go back to him
who sent you, and say that she whom you have
seen scorns his overtures j and though an actress,
she prides herself on possessing principles as good,
thoughts as pure, and resolutions as strong as the
most immaculate of those who from the strong-
holds of their own chastity or prudery look down
with contempt upon the heroine of the stage ! Go
and say, sir, that whatsoever degree of suspicion
or scandal, mistrust or doubt, may attach them-
selves to females of the theatrical profession, I at
least am one who by my own life will give the lie
to public opinion, and by my conduct put the
libertine to shame !"

Had I been in a mood to enjoy it, there was
something indescribably ludicrous in Mr. Pease-
blossom's aspect as he listened to this speech. He
literally excruciated himself with his endeavours
to put off his confusion and to keep his form
steady — but all in vain: for he fidgeted about —
he crushed his hat between his hands— he pulled
up the points of his collar until they nearly met
under his nose — and ho shuffled about with his
feet like a schoolboy that was receiving a severe
reprimand from his master. Mr. Peaseblossom
strove to obtain another hearing : but I silenced
him in a peremptory manner ; and he issued from
the house.

I must confess that I was infinitely annoyed by
this incident, — I mean in a sense apart from the
actual indignity of the overture itself. I had
formed a very high opinion of the Marquis of
Dalrymple : it was in my disposition to have the
wish to think well of human nature ; and it pained
me to be thus grievously disappointed. I was
moreover grieved to fancy that the young noble-
man should entertain so indifferent an opinion of
me as to expect that I could be dazzled by the
pecuniary temptation of his offers— especially after
I had assured him that my affections were engaged
to another. And I was astonished likewise at the
thought that after I had refused the proposal to
become his wife which in a moment of intatuation

118

ELIEN PEKCT ; OE, THE 2a:UM0IES OF AN ACijtESS.

Le had made me, he should for an instant conceive
it probable that I would become his mistress. I
did not however mention the motive of Mr. Pease-
blossom's visit to Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet:
I had suiEciently vindicated my own cause — and
moreover I had a dislike to render myself the
heroine of an adventure.

CHAPTER XXIII.

VAEI0TJ3 IKCIDKNT8.

Mt meeting with Mr. Parks had prevented me
from pursuing the shopping expedition on which
I had started ; and as I required to make several
purchases, I went forth with that aim on the fol-
lowing day. I vas again on foot and by myself ;
and as my objeot v. as to proceed to Oxford Street
and Regent Street, I took nearly the same route
as that which on the previous day had led me to
encounter the solicitor. Just as I was entering
Bedford Square, it was singular enough that I be-
held Mr. Parks's equipage at a little distance ; and
the lawyer himself was standing on the pavement
talking to some gentleman. They almost imme-
diately separated, — Mr. Parks leaping into his
vehicle, which drove rapidly away. He evidently
^d not observed me ; and I continued my path.

I beheld a dark object lying on the very spot
where the lawyer and Ae gentleman had been
conversing together ; and it proved to be a pocket-
book fastened with a clasp. I picked it up : there
was no name upon it ; and I knew not therefore
to which of the two individuals it belonged. Feel-
ing how necessary it was that it should be imme-
diately restored to its owner, I opened it to ascer-
tain who this owner might be. It contained
several papers and a bundle of bank-notes : but
there was no card with any name upon it, nor
was there any letter in an envelope indicating an
address. I therefore opened one of the papers;
and I started on beholding the name of Charles
Croft !

It was a brief note ; and a glance at the top
showed me that it was written from Embledon.
Impelled by an irresistible curiosity, I ran my eyes
over the billet's contents ; &ni found, as nearly as
I can no (7 recollect, that they ran as follow :—

"Embledon, November 28, 184(0.
" My dear Parks,

" I write to acknowledge the receipt of the
second half of the £10 note. You see that I am
following your advice by living in the strictest se-
clusion here. How well she is getting on !
"Yours very truly,

"Chables Cbobx."

The perusal of this note revived in a moment
all the suspicions which I had ever entertained to
the efect that I had seen Mr. Croft previous to
the solemnization of the private nuptials of Lord
Frederick EavensclifFe and Juliet. He was evi-
dently connected with Mr. Parks; and this con-
nexion associated itself with the visit paid to the
late Mrs. Parks and her son in London by that
man whom I had seen at my grandfather's house
at Leeds. My idea of Mr. Croft's character was

therefore now again a bad one ; and again too did
I tremble tor Juliet. But what meant that allu«
sion to some one who was getting on so well ? Did
it point to me 7 I felt a strong suspicion that it
did so ; and as I went on reflecting, I wondered —
painfully wondered — whether the menaces which
Parks had levelled at me on the preceding day
could have any connection with the affairs of that
same Charles Croft ?

I was a prey to all kinds of bewildering and
even torturing surmises and conjectures, as I pur-
sued my way towards Oxford Street. There— on
reaching the first shop at which I had purchases to
make, and where I was well known — I procured a
sheet of paper, enveloped the pocket-book in it,
and addressed the packet in a feigned hand to Mr.
Parks. I then requested the shopman to let his
boy deliver it at the attorney's house — but strictly
charging that the messenger was not to say from
whom the parcel came. From that shop I con-
tinued my way into Regent Street ; and just as I
was about to enter that same mercery establish-
ment where I had seen Lady Mangold self-appro-
priate the lace, I beheld the Marquis of Dalrymple
passing by on horseback. The first glimpse which
I had of his countenance, showed me that it sud-
denly beamed with joy as he recognised me ; and
he lifted his hat with the most graceful politeness.
I at once turned away without condescending to
take any farther notice of him — though with a
manner which was intended pointedly to convince
him how proudly indignant I was at his receat
conduct. While in the shop, it occurred to me
that the young Marquis might probably seek a
personal interview, either to implore my pardon or
to repeat his offensive overtures ; and as I had ob-
served that he was followed by his groom, there
could be no difficulty for him to leave his horse for
the purpose. The establishment had two entrances
—one in Regent Street (or rather the Quadrant,
as I should all along have said), and the other in
Piccadilly. Therefore, when my purchases were
completed, I passed out by the Hccadilly entrance.
Seeking a cab, I returned to Hunter Street.

In the evening I made my appearance at the
theatre ; and I beheld the Marquis of Dalrymple
seated alone in a private box. When repairing to
my dressing-room at the close of one of the Acts,
I found a note lying upon the toUet-table. It had
a plain seal : but I recognised the handwriting of
the young Marquis ; for I had become acquainted
with it at the lime I was superintending the ar-
rangements for the private theatricals at Ardleigh
■j House. No one besides myself was in the dressing-
room at the time when I thus found the note,^
the lady's-maid being engaged with Mrs. Norman
in her own room at the theatre. I secured the
note, without opening it, about my person ; and
on the following day, immediately after breakfast,
I enclosed it in an envelope addressed to the Mar-
quis. I then lost no time in consigning the letter
with my own hands to the nearest post-office.

It was on the ensuing day that the morning's
delivery of letters brought me a note from the
Duchess of Ardleigh, requesting me to call upon
her precisely at the hour of noon — or if that ar-
rangement did not suit me, to let her Grace know
when she could call upon me. The billet was
politely though formally worded ; and it at once
struck me that the Duchess had made some disco

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTHE83.

119

very in reference to her son's proceedings. As I
was unaware to what extent her knowledge might
reach — and being afraid that if it were merely
Blight and partial, it might in some way compro-
mise my own character and good name — I resolved
to keep the appointment, and, if necessary, to give
the fullest explanation.

Accordingly, punctual to the hour named in
her Grace's note, I alighted from the Normans'
carriage at the entrance to Ardleigh House, I
was evidently expected on the part of the servants
lounging in the hall ; for one of the footmen im-
mediately requested me to follow him up- stairs to
the drawing-room. There I found the Duchess,
alone. She was seated with the air of one await-
ing an arrival that was to lead to business of deli-
cacy and importance ; and her manner was
pointedly cold and distant as she desired me to be
seated.

"Perhaps, Miss Traffiard," she began, "you are
not altogether ignorant of the motive for which I
requested this interview ?"

" I have no doubt, my lady, that I have rightly
conjectured your motive," was my answpr ; " and
your Grace perceives with what readiness I have
obeyed your summons."

"A very unplersant discovery has been made
by me. Miss Trafford," continued the Duchess:
" but as yet I have not spoken a word on the
subject to either my son or to the Duke. I hope
that the result of our present interview will render
it unnecessary to go to extremes in that sense."

"Your Grace may rest assured," I rejoined,
"that there has been nothing in mj conduct
which I could desire to be kept secret from the
Duke of Ardleigh : while in respect to the Marquis

of Dairy mple "

" Oh, Miss Trafford I" exclaimed the Duchess,
"there have been secrets between my son and
yourself !"

" Something certainly took place," I responded,
"which I regarded in a confidential light : but it
was nothing that for my own sake I could have
wished to be concealed from your Grace."

" My son has addressed you in the language of
love. Miss Trafford ; and by some means he has
offended you. You returned a note of his un-
opened. That note fell into my hands : I recog-
nised your writing on the envelope — I was asto-
nished— you can easily understand that I was
seized with suspicions — I opened the letter— and
read it. In doing this I only exercised a mother's
Rightful authority ; and it is also as a mother that
I sought this interview, in the hope of appealing
successfully to your good sense — your good feeling
—your honour — your prudence— ^ What terms
can I use ?"

" I can at once set your Grace's fears at rest,"
I answered, " by the assurance that I have never
given the slightest encouragement to the Marquis
of Dalrymple. To a proposal of marriage I could
not listen, because my affections are engaged to
another : — and to a dishonourable proposal there
was but one response to give — that of indignation
and scorn ! Yet both those proposals were made
to me by your Grace's son, the Marquis of Dal-
rymple !"

'■ lae foolish — the wicked boy !" exclaimed the
Duchess: then starting from the sofa, she caught
both my hands in her own ; and looking me very i

earnestly in the face, she said, "Yes, I believe you !
Such innocence of aspect never served as the mask
of guile ! There was truth in your words— tliere
is truth in your eyes ! Oh, Miss Trafford ! how
can I possibly thank you enough for the manner
in which you have set iny mind at rest ?"

"I am merely performing a duty which I owe
even more to myself than to your Grace," was my
answer.

The Duchess resumed her seat, and appeared to
await farther explanations from my lips.

" In the first instance," I proceeded, " the Mar-
quis of Dalrymple made me an honourable pro-
posal of marriage — or at least I had every reason
to regard his sentiments as honourable at the
time ; and I refused it. Believing that he intended
honourably, and looking upon him as well,
meaning and generous-hearted, I considered the
circumstance to be sacredly confidential. He has
subsequently insulted me with dishonourable over-
tures— which I rejected with scorn. But as a
result of that latter proceeding on his part, I now
hold myself absolved from the moral obligation of
secrecy and silence in respect to the former circum-
stance. I have now been candid with your Grace ;
and whatever may have been the contents of the
billet which I returned unopened "

"You may read them for yourself," said the
Duchess; "and you will thereby learn how partial
was the insight I had obtained into all those
proceedings concerning which you have given mo
such frank and honest explanations."

I took the billet which the Duchess proffered
me; and I found its contents to be couched in
some such sense as the following:—

" How is it that you treated me so coldly to-
day ? You know how passionately I loved you —
how devotedly I must still love you: and if love
rendered me bold as well as hopeful, it surely
ought not to be visited with so severe a punish-
ment. To refuse to notice me — to scorn the
homage of my respectful salutation — these were
proceedings on your part which I had not antici-
pated! I should not have presumed to write to
you, were it not that your coldness tortured mo ;
for at least we might have been friends. May I
beseech the favour of a single line to set my soul
at rest P

" Daletmple."

" After the perusal of this letter," I said, " I
could scarcely be offended if your Grace had
treated me with even a colder reserve than that
which you exhibited when I first entered tho
room. I have now nothing more to do than to
repeat the assurances "

"It is not necessary. Miss Trafford !" exclaimed
the Duchess. " Your conduct is admirable ! Ac-
cept my sincerest thanks ! — accept a mother's
gratitude ! And if ever circumstances should
render my friendship useful, hesitate not to appeal
to it. It is scarcely probable that you will have
an opportunity of putting me to the test : for in
your own sphere your position is most brilliant.
But still such an occasion might arise— and I
almost hope it will for one reason : namely, that
I may convince you of my gratitude."

I thanked the Duchess of Ardleigh for her
kindness ; for I considered that she had behaved

120

ELLEN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIES OV AIT ACTEESS.

admirably throughout. She shook me warmlj by
the hand ; and I departed from the mansion.

On returning to Hunter Street, I found Juliet
most anxiously waiting my arrival. Lord Fre-
derick EaTeusclifife had been to the bouse : she had
intelligence of importance to communicate to me ;
and the tidings were evidently good, if I might
judge from her looks.

" Here is the certificate !" she cried, presenting
to me a paper. " Frederick received it this morn-
icg— and he brought it just now."

I took the document : but the instant that my
eyes fell upon it, my countenance showed that I
was smitten with a suspicion of something wrong.
" Good heavens, Ellen ! what is the matter ?"
exclaimed Juliet, full of the most anxious sus-
pense.

" I must deal candidly with you, my dear
friend," I answered ; " for the matter is becoming
too serious for any suppression of the truth."

" Oh ! what mean you, Ellen ?" asked Juliet
with feverish excitement : and my poor friend
literally shivered in the strength of her mental
agony.

I " This is not the handwriting of Mr. Croft !" I
answered: and it cut me to the very soul to be
thus compelled to increase Juliet's anguish to the
intensest poignancy.

A shriek, half stifled and subdued, escaped her
lips ; and she clasped her hands, evidently with a
feeling as if her case were that of desperation.

"Oh could ho have thus deceived me?" she
cried wildly. " But tell me, Ellen — tell me— how

do you know "

" It were too long to give explanations," I
answered; "but suffice it for you to learn that I
am acquainted with the handwriting of Mr. Croft.
Yes — I know it well, Juliet ! Only very recently
did I see it — and I can assure you that it is
utterly different from that which appears upon this
paper."

"Ellen," asked Juliet, in a low hoarao voice,
" what, in the name of Grod, does all this mean ?
Am I mad ? — or, O heaven ! if not mad, I am be-
coming so ! Who is the deceiver ? Is it the cler-
gyman ? or is it Frederick ? God have mercy
upon me ! what horrible suspicions haunt my mind !
My brain is on fire ! No, it cannot be the clergy-
man ! It must be it must be " and she

convulsively gasped forth the name — " Fre-
derick !"

She sank upon a sofa, covering her face with her
hands, weeping and sobbing bitterly, and literally
shaking herself from right to left and from left to
right in the anguish of her despair.
I " Juliet," I said, my resolve being at once taken,
" be courageous, even if you cannot be consoled !
It is time that you should do something for your-
self—or rather that I should do it for you. I will
set oft' this very day for Birmingham — I will go to
Embledon— I will see Mr. Crott ; for I do know
that he is still there — or at least be was a few days

back and rest assured that I shall not leave

him until the best or the worst is known. I con-
fess that this affair of the certificate is all a mys-
tery to me. But we will not waste time in useless
conjectures^— I will depart at once I"

" Oh, a thousand thanks, dearest Ellen !" cried
Juliet, springing from the sofa and winding her
arms rouud my neck. " Yea — go, my sweet

friend ! For heaven's sake return soon ! — my sus-
pense will be terrible during your absence !"

" But you must exercise a command over your
feelings, Juliet," I earnestly though hurriedly con-
tinned. " For a thousand reasons— -you com-
prehend me, Juliet "

"My parents?" she ejaculated: and she fixed
upon me a look half wild, half despairing.

" Say nothing to them — at least for the pre-
sent," I quickly rejoined. "If all be well they
need never know how much anguish you have ex-
perienced, nor how strange and mysterious were
these proceedings until cleared up. But if, on the
other hand, I should sadly and mournfully be-
come the bearer of evil tidings, it will be time
enough to reveal to your parents the causes of
your distress."

"Yes— be it so," replied Juliet. "And yet
now — Oh ! how difficult the task to wear a placid
countenance when all is agitation and turmoil
within ! But your sudden absence, Ellen," ejacu-
lated Juliet as the thought struck her: "how is it
to be accounted for ?"

" Say that Lady Lilla Essendine sent for me
pressingly," I answered. " I am not to appear at
the theatre to-night — and I hope to return to-
morrow, hours before the curtain draws up !"

"And if you do not," suggested Juliet, anxiously,
—"if you be detained — if Mr. Croft is absent from
home "

" Then I must leave it to you, Juliet, to say
what you will!" I quickly rejoined. "Your af-
fairs now concern me before all others. I will de-
part at once ! I will go in a cab, so that the ser-
vants of the household shall not know what is my
destination."

I sped to my chamber, and hastily made up a
small packet of necessaries. I took leave of Juliet,
and repaired to the railway station. There was a
train about to start : I procured my ticket ; and I
was making my way through the crowd which
thronged the platform, when I caught a glimpse
of a countenance which was well known to me. It
was that of Edwin St. Clair.

Convinced that I had not been observed by him,
I plunged into the carriage that was nearest. I
took the only place that remained unoccupied : and
the door was immediately closed by one of the
officials. I had been startled by the sudden ap-
pearance of St. Clair ; and for some little while I
felt agitated and nervous. Six weeks had elapsed
since I had read the announcement of his depar*
ture for the Continent; and this was the first
knowledge I had of his return. I hoped most
sincerely that our last adventure had sickened him
of his base attempts against my honour and hap-
piness : but on the other hand, I feared lest pre-
vious impunity should render him daring and
bold for the future. I could not help wondering
likewise at the chance that had thus thrown us
into the same train ; and I resolved to keep myself
out of his sight, if possible.

I occupied a first class carriage ; and the other
seats accommodated ladies and gentlemen all be-
longing to the same family. They conversed
amongst themselves ; and I remained silent with
my veil over my countenance. Presently their
discourse turned upon theatrical matters ; for they
belonged to Birmingham, and had been to pass a
fortnight's holiday in London, during which in-

terval they had visited the public sights and exhi-
bitions, as a matter of course, and as I gleaned
from what they said. My name vpas soon men-
tioned—or rather my assumed name of Miss Traf-
ford ; and I had the satisfaction of hearing myself
spoken of in terms the most complimentary. They
had not the remotest suspicion that the subject of
their conversation was present ; and yet they had
evidently studied me well when on the stage ; for
they spoke minutely of my personal appearance.
If I had been endowed with much silly vanity, I
should have felt as flattered at the remarks upon
my beauty as at those which they passed upon my
performance. Presently, one of the ladies, appa-
rently determined to wean me from my silence,
asked me if I had ever seen Miss Traflfcrd. There
was something so ludicrous in the fact of in-
quiring whether I had ever seen myself, that if I
had been in my wonted spirits I should have
assuredly laughed : but being in no mood for mirth,
No. 16. — EiiEK Peecx.

I simply replied in the afBrmative. The lady-—
who was an old one — strove hard to elicit my opi-
nion of Miss Traftbrd's dramatic pert'oruianco as
well as of her personal appearance ; and I had
some difficulty in fencing with her questions and
avoiding an air of rudeness. She however at
length seemed to think that I did not wish for con-
versation ; and she accordingly desisted from ad-
dressing her remarks to me.

The journey to Birmingham was performed
without any other incident worthy of nute ; and
at the places where the train stopped I caught no
further glimpse of Captain St. Clair. Ou arriving
at our destination, I remained for some lime in my
seat, so as to afford St. Clair an opportunity of
getting away ere I emerged from the carriage. I
had then some difficulty in procuring a vehicle to
take me to a hotel : but at length I obtained one.
I still saw nothing of St. Clair; and I most sin-
cerely hoped that the accidental circumstaaces

122

ELLBN PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

which had thrown us into the same train, would
not carry us to the same inn. Conceiving it to be
most probable that St. Clair — if he had indeed
come all the way to Birmingham— would go to the
principal hotel, I desired to bo driven to a second-
rate one. There I ordered some refreshment, and
inquired whether I could have a vehicle to take me
that same evening to Embledon ? The reply was
in the affirmative. I partook slightly of the dinner
that was served up ; and I then entered the chaise
which was by this time in readiness.

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when
I thus started in a one-horse jhaise ; and I regretted
that I had not specified an equipage of two horses,
inasmuch as time was precious. Embledon, as the
reader will remember, was twenty iniles from Bir-
mingham ; and I could not possibly hope to achieve
that distance in less than two hours at the very
least. However, if I should arrive at my desti-
nation shortly after nine o'clock, I might inquire
for Mr. Croft that same evening, and leave early on
the following morning.

Such were my reflections during the commence-
ment of the journey j and in addition thereto I
congratulated myself on having escaped the notice
of Edwin St. Clair, I then gradually fell into a
irain of meditation in respect to Juliet and the
mission on which I was bent. Thus passed the
time until we reached a small village, where the
driver stopped to bait his horse. Here was a delay
of twenty minutes ; and during that interval I re-
mained seated in the chaise : for the December
night was raw and damp, and the inn or rather
public-house was by no means sufficiently inviting
for me to enter it. While thus ensconced in the
vehicle, I heard the hostler telling the driver of
the fly that a post-chaise and pair from Birming.
ham had passed along a short while back.

The journey was resumed at the expiration of
the twenty minutes ; and the darkness grew so in-
tense that I wondered the man could see his way
sufficiently to guide the horse ; for the vehicle had
no lamps. All of a sudden there was a crash,
instantaneously followed by the fall of the driver
into the road, and the toppling over of the chaise
to one side. A scream burst from my lips : but
the vehicle was not completely upset. I put forth
my hand ; and opening the door, descended.
Tlirough the deep darkness were my glances
plunged ; and I speedily became aware of the
nature of the accident. The chaise had come in
contact with a mile-stone; and the springs or some
portion of the gear beneath the box, had broken
or given way — thus disabling the vehicle. The
shafts too had become detached with the violence
of the sudden resistance offered to the progress of
the horse : but the animal was remaining quietly
at a little distance. As for the driver, he was lying
perfectly motionless in the road ; and the horrible
thought struck me that he must be dead. Such
was the nature of the accident, the details of which
were more quickly embraced by my vision, even
amidst the darkness of the evening, than they
have occupied in their narration.

I must confess that it was with a shuddering
ecnsation of awe and horror that I bent down over
the driver to ascertain if life were really extinct.
1 had reason to suppose however that he still lived.
I raised him up, and unfastened his neckcloth : I
pillowed his head on the cushions taken from the |

vehicle : but still he did not recover. I examined
both sides of the road to see if there were any water
— but there was none. I flung my eyes around
me in a species of despair : but joy sprang up in
my heart whea I caught a glimpse of a light at a
distance. I watched it earnestly for a few mo-
ments, in the dread lest it should only prove to be
a will-'o-the-wisp and escape me altogether. But
no! — it burnt steadily; and as near as I could
conjecture, it was about half a mile farther along
the road. Again I examined the driver to see
whether he gave any signs of returning animation:
but he lay torpid as before —though I still had
reason to hope that life was nob extinct. Now,
therefore, as the only alternative, I sped forward
in the direction of the light, for the purpose of
obtaining assistance.

A few minutes brought me near enough to ascer-
tain that the light shone from a window ; and on
a still nearer approach, I discovered that the place
was a small cottage standing back a few yards
from the road, with a low paling skirting a littlo
front garden, or enclosure of some kind.

I soon found the gate ; and opening it, hastened
to the cottage-door. I knocked with my hand as
loudly as I could : but nearly two minutes elapsed
before my summons produced any effect. I was
on the point of repeating it, when the door was
opened by a female carrying a light in her hand ;
and to my astonishment I at once recognised that
old gipsy whom I had seen in the neighbourhood
of Lady Lilla Essendine's residence, and who had
summoned her ladyship to an interview through
the medium of a wild rose. The old crone recog-
nised me as quickly as I knew her ; and she ex-
claimed in astonishment, " What ! sweet young
lady, is it you— alone— in this part of the country
—at such an hour too ?"

"An accident has happened," I hastily cried,
" to a chaise in which I was travelling : the driver
was thrown off his box — I fear that he is very

seriously hurt ! Pray come or send "

" One moment ! one moment !" said the old
crone ; " and you shall have assistance. Eemain
here."

She opened a door in the little passage where
she had made her appearance ; and she passed into
the room with which it communicated, — closing it
behind her, I remained on the threshold of the
front door ; and a vague fear arose in my mind.
I did not like that old gipsy's look ; and it seemed
strange that she should thus return into the room
in a manner as if to speak to somebody whom she
did not wish me to see, or else that I should not
overhear her words. I was alone, in the darkness
of the evening : the place itself was lonely ; and
thus it was scarcely to be wondered at if I felt
somewhat afraid. In about a minute the old
gipsy reappeared ; and coming completely out of
the house, she closed the front door behind her.

" One moment, my sweet young lady !" she
cried: "one moment. Miss — and my grand-
daughter Zarah shall accompany you to the spot
where the accident has occurred ! — Now you can
walk in," she added, as if sufficient time had been
allowed for some one to leave the ground-floor
room while the front door was closed.

"I will wait for your grand-daughter here," I
answered, not liking to set foot within the cot-
tage.

ELLEN TEKCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

123

" No, no ! — wait not in the cold !" rejoined the
crone, flinging open the front door again. " The
air is bleak— and my grand-daughter will be two
or three minutes before she will be ready to ac-
company you. Sho has just run up-stairs to dress
herself. You surely are not too proud to enter
my humble dwelling ?"

" No," I responded, suddenly putting aside my
fears at this appeal from the old woman. " But
for heaven's eake let your grand- daughter make
baste !— or do you yourself come with me !"

"Zarah will go," said the crone. "Pray walk
in and warm yourself for a minute by the fire."

I entered the passage : the old woman threw
open the door ; and with every appearance of
respectfulness she stood aside for me to pass before
Ler into the room. But the instant I entered,
she closed the door violently, and turned the key
in the lock.

A cry burst from my lips as I thus found
myself a prisoner; and I turned quickly round to
try and force open the door. But it was too late.
It waa a ground floor room ; and I sped to the
window, which was a small one of the lattice de-
scription. I opened it : but the light of the candle
which was burning upon the table, showed me
that it had bars outside.

" Do not be afraid, my sweet young lady !" said
the voice of the old crone, as her countenance ap-
peared at those bars. " Tell mo where the accident
occurred; and Zarah shall speed to the succour of
the man "

" Infamous woman !" I ejaculated : " how dare
you treat me thus ? If you require money I will
give it to you : but I demand that you immedi-
ately restore me to freedom."

"That cannot be. Miss Percy," answered the
old gipsy, now for the first time addressing me by
my name. " As for your money, keep it."

" Good heavens !" I exclaimed, as wild appre-
hensions swept through my mind; "what is the
meaning of this? For God's sake tell me! — keep
me not in suspense ! — let me know the worst,
whatever it be !"

" My sweet girl, you need have no fear for your
life," responded the old gipsy. "No one will harm
a hair of your head. But tell me in which direc-
tion the accident has occurred "

" At a very short distance towards Birming-
ham," I answered, thinking that in any case the
unfortunate driver had better have assistance as
Boon as possible. " But I beseech you "

I stopped short ; for the hideous wrinkled coun-
tenance of the old woman was withdrawn from the
bars through which she had been staring at me ;
and in a few moments I heard her re-enter the
house. From the passage she called out in a loud
tone for her grand-daughter; and then I heard
hasty footsteps descending a staircase. There was
some whispering in the passage ; I stole to the
door to listen, if possible, to what was being said :
but I could not catch a single syllable. I however
heard one of the whisperers immediately after-
wards leave the house ; and I concluded it must
be Zarah. The front door w^as then closed ; and
the old woman began ascending the stairs— for I
could tell that it was she by her footsteps.

I had now leisure to glance around me; and I
found that I was in a small meanly furnished
room. There was a rag of a carpet upon the floor

— a small round table in the centre — three or four
common rush-bottomed chairs — and some wretched
coloured prints, in black painted frames, suspended
to the dingy walls. I sat down, almost overcome
by this sudden calamity which had befallen me.
There was an image, like that of the Genius of
Mischief floating in my brain ; for apart from this
association I could by no means form the slightest
conjecture in respect to the motive of my capti-
vity. I rose from my seat, and tried the bars with
my hands. They were thin, but firmly set in the
brick-work of the wall. I pulled hard at one of
them : but my attempt to move it was vain. I
was about to examine the door to see if it were
possible to wrench off the lock, when I heard the
footsteps of a man descending the stairs. I now
felt that I should know the worst. The key turned
in the lock — the door opened— and he whose image
had previously been floating in my mind, made his
appearance. Need I inform the reader that this
was Edwin St. Clair ?

As he entered the room, an expression of
triumph, malignant and mischievous, appeared
upon his countenance; and I said within myself,
" N-ow God help me !" — for I felt that I was
completely in his power. But still I endeavoured
to assume an air of confidence and indignation,
80 that the terror which I really experienced
should not be apparent.

" Fortune has favoured me, Ellen," began St.
Clair, as he locked the door and placed the key in
his pocket. " This is an unexpected pleasure. I
have been thinking of you — I have been speaking
of you : but little did I dream a few minutes back
that circumstances would so soon bring us face to
face again 1"

" Captain St. Clair," I answered, " you seem to
have marked me out as an object for your ran-
corous persecution. Heaven has hitherto protected
me ; and heaven will protect me again ! Towards
myself I have acted foolishly, in abstaining from
an invocation of the law to punish you for your
past misconduct : but this time "

" This time, Ellen," interrupted St. Clair, with
a malignant smile— but at the same time fixing
his burning regards upon me in a way that filled
me with afi'right, — "this time I will not be lenient
towards you : I will make you mine ! The pride
of Ellen Percy will prevent her from going forth
to the world to proclaim her own dishonour; and
she will accept her destiny — namely, that of St.
Clair's mistress,"

"Never, villain!" I exclaimed. "I will die
sooner !"

" The days of romance are gone by," he inter-
jected, with a scoffing tone ; " and young ladies do
not die so readily as in books or on the stage. I
tell you, Ellen, that you shall be mine ! You might
have been my wife : more than once have I offered
you my hand— and I swear that at the time I was
serious and sincere ! But you scorned my love:
you have covered me witha thousaud humiliations
— the tables are however turning — and it is now
yourself that will be humiliated ! Think you not
that I have a vengeance to wreak as well as a pas-
sion to gratify ? You know, EUeu, that I am a
strange being : I am not like other men. I can
lovo and hate at the same time. You told Lady
Lilla Essendine how you baflled me on the last
occasion that you were at my house : you placed in

ber bands a terrible weapon to use against me;
you enabled ber to wring my heart with her irony
and excruciate my soul with her scoffing. You did
not spare me, Ellen "

" I declare to you, Captain St. Clair," I an-
swered, terrified by bis tone and bis looks, " that
except to Lady Lilla Essendine I never mentioned
that occurrence. She received me in ber carriage
that night when I escaped from your bouse : and
I was forced to give ber an explanation. I have
spared you. Captain St. Clair ! — I have spared you
too much ! If there be in your disposition one
spark of generosity "

" I will tell you, EUen," interrupted St. Clair,
" to what extent my generosity reaches. I will
leave you here for one half-hour's reflection ; and I
will tell you what you have to reflect upon. It
is whether you will surrender yourself to my
arms "

" Silence, sir ! enough !" I indignantly exclaimed.
"Tour words are fraught with insult !"

" If it be so," he said, in a dogged and resolute
manner, " there is no need for leniency ! Ah,
proud beauty ! the moment for your humiliation is
come !"

He was advancing towards me, with looks that
filled me with the wildest terror, — when it sud-
denly struck me that it was a perfect act of mad-
ness on my part not to have gained the half-hour
which he proS"ered : for in that space of time the
band of providence, through the seeming medium
of the chapter of accidents, might afford me the
means of safety and escape.

"Speak! speak!" I cried. "Oh, what would
you have me reflect upon F"

" Ah ! are you growing reasonable ?" be said,
with a sort of sneering satisfaction. " You will at
least be wise to become so ! Now, understand
your position well, Ellen. You are completely in
my power — this house is lonely — all the wildest
shrieks or most frantic cries which your lips might
send forth, would fail to bring you succour. As
for myself, I am resolute and determined. My
love for you has been, and still is, a madness and
an infatuation ! Eeflect therefore whether you
will resignedly accept your destiny — whether you
will receive with a willing hand the wealth that I
am enabled to shower upon you — and whether you
will become my mistress as if you were won as
other women may be won ! Let your decision be
in the affirmative, and the thought of vengeance
instantaneously vanishes from my mind. I will
not treat you as one whom I have humiliiited— but
as one whom I am to cherish and love. I will be
to you all tenderness and afiection. Though your
master now, I will henceforth become your slave.
You shall be as happy, Ellen, as it is in my power
to render you ; — and to make you independent of
the world I will settle thousands upon you !"

It was with the utmost difficulty I could stifle
my indignant feelings, or keep down the burning
glow from my cheeks, as I listened to this speech.
But so desperate was my position — in the power
of a man whose character was equally desperate —
that I was nerved with an extraordinary self-
possession in order to carry the point on which
alone my salvation seemed to depend. I therefore
assumed an air of reflection ; and when St. Clair
had finished speakieg, I said, " Leave — leave me !
Give me leisure to resign myself to my fate !"

"I knew that you would become reasonable!"
he ejaculated, with a look of triumph: then has-
tily consulting his watch, he added, " In balf-an-
hour I shall return."

He issued from the room, locking the door upon
me. I flew to the iron bars once more : I tore at
them — Oh ! with what desperate energy did I en-
deavour to wrench them forth : but all in vain !
Thus several minutes elapsed ; and I threw myself,
exhausted and wretched, upon a seat. But it was
only to start up again in a few moments : and then
I examined the door. The lock was let into the
wood itself, and could not therefore be wrenched
ofi". There were fire-irons in the grate ; and these
might serve as implements to break down the
door : but I knew that at the very first sound in-
dicative of an attempt to escape, my persecutor
would return. "What could I do ? The precious
minutes were flitting by : for. Oh ! time goes so
quickly when it is most valuable; — and my posi-
tion seemed hopeless. I wrung my bands in de-
spair : I could scarcely prevent myself from shriek-
ing out— but I knew how useless it would be !

All of a sudden I heard a footstep underneath
the window ; and glancing in that direction, I be-
held the countenance of Zarah, the younger gipsy,
close against the bars. Her finger was upon her
lip to enjoin silence; and hope sprang up in my
heart. The next instant I was at the window.

'•' Give me your kerchief, and one of the fire
implements," said Zarah, in the lowest possible
whisper.

I hastened to obey : and she observed, " You
have doubtless seen him ? How long can you
reckon that it will be ere his return ?"

" He has given me half-an-hour to reflect "

" Enough ! I thought it was something of that
sort. Be silent !"

Zarah took my kerchief, which she tied tightly
round the two central bars — for they were four in
number. Then, by means of the poker which I
had given ber from the grate, she kept twisting
the handkerchief in such a manner that the efi'ect
was to bring the bending bars nearer and nearer
towards each other. She worked with dexterity
and vigour ; and I watched the progress with an
intense anxiety. I comprehended that she sought
to accomplish my escape without being herself
suspected that she had done so. In a few minutes
the bars came out of their sockets at the lower
extremities ; and it was then a comparatively easy
task to remove them altogether.

" Lay them down in the room, together with
the kerchief," whispered Zarah, whose handsome
countenance was now beaming with a satisfaction
that had a certain degree of malignity in it, as if
she were rejoiced at baffling the schemes of Edwin
St. Clair: for I could not suppose that it was
through any particular love for me that the gipsy
was thus acting.

I laid the bars, together with the kerchief and
the poker which its twisted coils enfolded, upon
the nearest chair ; and aided by Zarah, I passed
through the window.

" This way !" she said, still speaking in the
lowest possible whisper : and she led me round to
the back part of the premises.

There a gate opened into a field, through which
she conducted me in silence. Thus, by a circuitous
route, she gained the road : but I knew that the

EXtEN 3PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AW ACTRESS.

125

spot thus reached was in the direction exactly
contrary to that where the accident to the vehicle
had occurred : for the latter was on the Birming.
ham side of the cottage — whereas I was now on
the Embledon side. Here the gipsy stopped
short; and addressed me in the following terms :—

"I have now rendered you a service, Miss
Percy ; and the only favour I need in return, is
that you will never sufier it to transpire that you
were liberated by me. St. Clair will think that
you effected your own escape :— let him remain
under that impression. I need scarcely add that
for the sake of my grandmother and myself, you
will remain equally silent in respect to the treat-
ment you experienced at our cottage. The driver
of your chaise has recovered ; but the vehicle is
too much damaged for you to proceed in it. He
told me that you are bound to Embledon. Hasten
along the road ; and in a few minutes you will
meet a post-chaise and pair. Hesitate not to stop
it, and inquire of the postilion whether he cannot
return and take you to your destination ? He will
tell you that he was hired by a gentleman at Bir-
mingham to bring him to that cottage; and in
pursuance of the orders given, he is on his way to
take him up again, having baited his horses at the
nearest way-side public-house. Say boldly at once
that you know the gentleman — he is Captain St.
Clair — and that you have his authority for using
the post-chaise. If you manage the matter well
you cannot possibly fail of success ; and you will
save yourself from wandering along this lonely
road, on foot, and in the darkness. Here is your
packet of necessaries : I brought it with me from
the broken chaise : — for from the very first I was
resolved in aiding you to escape from the cot-
tage."

" But the driver of that vehicle ?" I interjected :
" I must remunerate the poor man "

"I have already done so," answered Zarah.
" He is perfectly satisfied ; and I have moreover
given him to understand that you have found
another means of conveyance. And now fare-
well."

The gipsy did not wait to receive the expressions
of my gratitude : but she hurried precipitately
away, and was instantaneously lost to mj view in
the surrounding darkness. With a fervid and
exultant joy at my heart did I speed along the
road ; and in a few minutes I beheld two twinkling
lights in the distance. Almost immediately after-
wards the sounds of an approaching equipage were
wafted to my ear ; and the expected post-chaise
and pair, with its lamps lighted, came up. I called
to the postilion to stop — which he at once did;
and I demanded, " Is this a return chaise ?"

" No," he replied— and not very civilly ; for it
was natural he should think it strange to be thus
accosted by a female at such an hour, it being now
nine o'clock in the evening. -

"I am sorry for that," I said: "for I would re-
munerate you handsomely "

" Beg your pardon, ma'am — I didn't see at first
it was a lady I was talking to. I've got to take
up a gentleman at a little cottage about half a
mile further along the road——"

"What?" I exclaimed, in affected astonish-
ment ; " a gentleman whom you brought from Bir-
mingham "

" The very same, ma'am," answered the postilion.

" Then I know him well!" I ejaculated : "he is
Captain St. Clair."

" To be sure, ma'am ! But "

" Oh ! he does not want the chaise," I at onco
cried : " he purposes to remain where he is. I
have his full authority for using it. You must
turn and take me to Embledon — and I will give
you a guinea for your trouble, besides the ex-
penses."

Tlie postilion was completely satisfied : I took
my seat in the chaise ; and the equipage, being
turned round, bore me in the direction of Em-
bledun.

CHAPTEE XXIV.

ME CEOFT.

DtTErNO the drive thither, I reflected upon the
incidents which had occurred to me, as well as
upon other circumstances which they recalled to
my memory. I could not help thinking that it
was from a deeper motive than mere compassion j
or friendly feeling that the younger gipsy had in- j
terfered on my behalf— thereby baffling the diabo- I
lical design of St. Clair. That St. Clair himself '
should be in any way connected with those gipsies
— that he should have business to transact with
them— and that he should travel all the way from
London on purpose to visit them, were matters
which excited my astonishment. Those same
gipsies were likewise acquainted with Lady Lilla
Essendine ; and her ladyship had been induced to
obey the elder crone's summons by means similar
to those which, at Lady Lilla's own suggestion, I
had adopted to overawe St. Clair. There was a
combination of mysteries in all these things which
I could not fathom by any possible conjecture;
and now that I found St. Clair to be connected
with those gipsies, I thought more seriously than
ever of Lady Lilla's connexion with them. In-
deed, suspicions floated in my mind which were
not altogether favourable to her ladyship : I feared
that, figuratively speaking, she wore a mask— and
that after all she must have been the writer of
that fragment of a letter which I had in my pos-
session— and consequently that she was the victim
of an illicit love for the nephew of her deceased
husband.

Though there was something to pain and grieva
me in these reflections— for I had liked Lady Lilla,
and had received so much kindness at her hands-
yet was there a fervid joy in my heart at havingf
escaped from the power of so desperate a villain
as St. Clair. I regretted nevertheless that Zarah 'a
injunctions bound me to the strictest secrecy in
respect to the transaction of this particular even-
ing : for otherwise I would certainly have invoked
the aid of the law to punish him for his infamous
conduct, as well as to protect myself in future
against his machinations. But I considered my-
self to be bound in honour, as well as by the ties
of gratitude, to respect those injunctions on the
younger gipsy's part ; and it was now too late to
appeal to the magisterial authority in reference to
Edwin St. Clair's former villanous proceedings to-
wards me. That he was bent upon effecting my
ruin, if he possessed the power, was only to.; evi-

123

ELLEN Percy; oe, thb memoies of an ACTEEsg.

dent : be was a remorselesa persecutor ; aud I felt
how needful it was to be tbencefortb completely
upon my guard against the operations of his trea-
chery.

I arrived in safety at Embledon : but it was then
too late to visit Mr. Croft ; and being thoroughly
wearied by all I had gone through, I longed to re-
tire to rest. I certainly did not like the idea of
taking up my quarters in a miserable public-
house; for Embledon could boast of nothing
better : but there was no alternative — and to that
miserable inn did I accordingly direct the postilion
to take me. On alighting at the place, I expe-
rienced no small degree of satisfaction on finding
that the house was perfectly silent; for I had
dreaded lest there might be a horde of tippling
villagers or peasants in the tap-room. I however
beheld no one but the blear-eyed old woman who
was the mistress of the place ; and she received me
with a respectful curtsey. I asked if I could be
accommodated with a chamber for the night ?—
and I was conducted to one which, though ex-
ceedingly small and very poorly furnished, was
nevertheless cleanly.

"I believe," I said, "that the name of your
clergyman here is Mr. Croft f"

" Yes— it be, ma'am," answered the old woman.

"And do you happen to know whether he is at
home ?" I said : " for I have come to Embledon on
purpose to see him."

" Ob, yes, ma'am ! I know he be at home !"
rejoined the landlady; "cos why him and Mrs.
Croft has a party this evening."

" Mrs. Croft ?" I ejaculated : and I was about
to put some more questions, when thinking it
would appear strange, I said, " Thank you : good
night."

The old woman retired ; and I was left alone
in the little chamber. One point of information
which I had elicited was satisfactory : namely, that
Mr. Croft was at home, and that therefore I should
be enabled to see him in the morning. But I was
surprised to learn that he was married : for he had
distinctly told me on the former occasion when I
was at Embledon, that there was no lady at his
house who could receive me — by which I under-
stood him to mean that he was not a married man.
I however reflected that he might possibly have
intended to intimate that his wife was from home
at the time. I retired to rest, and slept soundly
until morning.

At eight o'clock I rose, and partook of the break-
fast that was served up. I asked no more ques.
tions relative to the clergyman ; but at about nine
o'clock I proceeded towards the habitation which
Mr. Croft himself had pointed out to me on the
occasion of my previous visit. It was then em-
bowered by the foliage of the surrounding trees :
but now these trees were all stripped of their
leaves, and the cold wind of winter moaned amidst
their skeleton branches. The house was a small
one, but of picturesque and genteel appearance;
and it stood in the midst of a garden, which was
sopi\rated by a paddock from the churchyard. I
ad canoed up to the front door; and my summons
was answered by a buxom, neatly-attired servant-
girl. I inquired if Mr. Croft were at homo .!*— she
replied iu the affirmative ; and conducting me into
a parlour, requested to know what name she should
mention p

" Have the kindness to say that Miss Percy from
London has called," I answered.

I remained alone in the parlour for about five
minutes, — at the expiration of which interval the
door opened ; and a short stout gentleman, about
sixty years of age, and with a very red face, made
his appearance. Ha wore a somewhat shabby
morning gown ; and therefore I concluded that he
must be an inmate of the house — probably some
friend staying with Mr. Croft : but he was alto-
gether unlike Mr. Croft himself. He bowed with
sufficient politeness— requested me to be seated—
and taking a chair also, looked at me as if waiting
to know mj business.

" I called to see the Eeverend Mr. Croft," I
said.

" I am Mr. Croft," was the reply, which startled
and bewildered me.

" But perhaps, sir," I said, after a pause, " you
are not the minister of the village ? You are the
brother no doubt "

" I am the incumbent of Embledon, Miss Percy,"
responded the clergyman : and he himself evidently
began to think that there was something strange
in the turn which our interview was taking.

" There is a mistake, sir," I observed : " you are
not the gentleman whom I expected to see. Per-
haps there is another clergyman of the same
name "

" Ah ! I begin to comprehend," exclaimed the
reverend gentleman. " There is another Mr. Croft
living at Embledon : but I am not acquainted with
him — neither was I previously aware that he was
a clergyman. It is he doubtless whom you seek.
He lodges at the linendraper's, in the very centre of
the village."

I rose, and expressed my regret for having in-
truded upon Mr. Croft. He looked very muci as
if he would like to know what business it was that
had brought me to Embledon : but I of course did
not choose to give any explanation. I thanked
him for his courtesy, and took my departure, my
mind most painfully afflicted on Juliet's account.

I had no difiiculty in finding the linendraper's,
which was a very superior establishment for so
small a place. Enocking at the private door, I
inquired of the female servant who answered the
summons, if Mr. Croft were at home ?— but that
gentleman himself immediately came running down
the stairs ; and at the first glance I saw that bis
look was strange and excited as he recognised me.
He was dressed in precisely the same style as when
I had last seen him, except that his clothes were
new and his white cravat was cleaner. Quickly
recovering from the evident embarrassment into
which my appearance had thrown him, he invited
me to walk up-stairs, — his manner being full of
courtesy — his tone bland and mild. I followed him
up into a well-furnished room, where a number of
books were ranged upon shelves : but there was an
air of untidiness about the apartment— and several
newspapers littered the floor. Mr. Croft invited
me to be seated ; and depositing himself in an easy
chair which stood near the table, he said, " What
has again brought you, Miss Percy, to Emble-
don ?"

"The object of my visit is soon explained, Mr.
Croft," I answered. " May I without faitlicr pre-
face beg to be informed whether you have ut any
time given a certificate of that marriage • '

ELLEU PERCY ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

127

" Why do you ask ?" he rlemanded : and in the
eager anxiety with which he spoke, he forgot to
assume the bland and dulcet voice in which he had
previously addressed me : so that back to my mind
came the suspicion, almost amounting to a convic-
tion that he was really the individual who had
visited my grandfather at Leeds, and Mrs. Parks
subsequently in London.

lie saw that I gazed uppn him in a peculiar
manner, and that I had started when he spoke in
his natural lone. He seemed confused; and re-
suming; his feigned voice, he hastened to say, " Tell
me. Miss Percy — why do you question me relative
to a certificate ?"

"There is no necessity to keep any secrets from
you," I replied. "You know that I am intimate
with Mr. Norman's daughter — for I scarcely know
whether to call her Miss Norman still, or Lady
Frederick Ravenscliffe — and it is precisely on ac-
count of this terrible doubt, that I have under-
taken the present journey with the determination
of having it set at rest, Juliet is a virtuous, a
well-principled, and a high-minded young lady.
Por the sake of the love which she bears Lord
Frederick, she consented to a private marriage,
and will continue to keep that marriage secret so
long as circumstances may render such silence ex-
pedient for the young nobleman's interests. But
she wishes to have the certitude that she is indeed
a wedded wife : and this is all the more necessary,
ijnsmuch as she is in a way to become a mother."
"You now speak as if you had no doubt that
she is a wedded wife," said Mr. Croft j "and yet
but a few moments back you intimated your un-
certainty upon the subject."

" I confess, sir," was my answer, " that I have
the most cruel misgivings, which it is for you to
clear up. I thought that you were tbe incumbent
of Embledon — whereas I find that you are not.
You yourself told me that you lived at the par-
sonage—you yourself gave me to understand that
it was in the neighbouring church where your
duties were performed; and all this, Mr. Croft,
turns out to be utterly false !"

He became pale as death, and flung upon me so
peculiar a look that I was half- frightened : for it
seemed as if there were rage in that look, but
blended with the expression of some other feeling
that I could not understand.

" Then you have been to the parsonage ?" he
said: "you have seen my namesake there ? — and
perhaps you have told him the object of your visit
to this village ?"

" No, Mr. Croft — I told him nothing of my pur-
poses," I answered : " I gave him no explanations.
But, Oh ! I perceive that my worst misgivings are
confirmed ! Your looks and your words prove it !
—•and Juliet has been the victim of some trea-
chery ! Tell me, Mr. Croft — are you really that
which you represented yourself to be ? — are you a
clergyman? You do not reply ! Ob, your silence
now sets every doubt at rest, and gives a horrible
confirmation to the worst fears that have been en-
tertained! Juliet, I repeat, has been made the
victim of a villanous perfidy ! But her parents
will now know all ; — and rest assured that punish-
ment will overtake you !"

Mr. Croft rose from his seat, evidently labouring
under the most powerful emotions. He paced to
and fro in the room : then be stopped and looked

at me, as if he had something to say but hesitated
to say it. He resumed liis walk : he paused and
looked at me again ; and then he said, " Tell me
what has awakened thoso suspicions which led to
this present journey of your's to Embledon?"

"A certificate was displayed to Juliet, purport-
ing to have been written by you. Accident enabled
me to declare at once that it was not your hand-
writing "

"And that accident?" ejaculated Mr, Croft
quickly, and evidently smitten with amazement.
" How could you possibly know my handwriting?"

I saw no harm in explaining that circumstance;
and I moreover felt that every fresh thing I said
was calculated to elicit from Mr. Croft's lips some-
thing that it behoved me to know. I there-
fore tol 1 him how I had picked up Mr. Parks's
pocket-book, and had seen therein the note
which he had written acknowledging, the receipt
of a pecuniary remittance.

" And let me add, Mr. Croft," I said, " that the
conviction is again strong in my mind that you
and I met not for the first time on the evening
when you so wickedly assumed a sacred character
to which you evidently are not entitled."

He again paced the room ; and though I felt
that I ought at once to take my departure, yet
still was I retained there by some strong feeling of
curiosity which I can scarcely however describe,
but which exercised a complete sway over me.

"And you will return to London," he said, again
suddenly stopping short, "and you will tell your
friend Juliet and her parents "

"Yes, everything!" I exclaimed, rising from my
seat. "Oh! how could you have been so wicked
as to practise such a dreadful deception ? And that

young ncbleman Oh! to think that he should

have thvis ruined for ever the peace of mind of her
whom he professed to love ! Mr. Croft, a crime
has been comniitted which calls for all the ven-
geance which the law can wreak unless indeed

Lord Frederick will now repair by a real marriage
the terrific injury he has inflicted by a false
one."

" You see, Ellen," said Mr. Croft, now address-
ing me by my Christian name in a way as if he
were familiarly accustomed so to do — and I started
visibly at the circumstance, — "you see, Ellen," ho
continued, not appearing to notice that I thus
started, " I have not as yet admitted the truth of
your accusations : neither have I denied it. I will
do the former now. Yes— it is true that I con-
sented to become the agent of Lord Frederick's
villany : I admit it ! But I was completely in
his power Ah, if you knew all !"

" Tell me— tell me," I exclaimed, " why did you
visit my grandfather at Leeds. You cannot deny
that it was you ! You have been speaking in
your natural voice— and I have recognised it !
There is some strange mystery hanging around
you, Mr. Croft ; and I feel that this mystery is
associated with myself. Did you not allude to me
in that brief note which you sent the other day to
Mr. Parks ? How can you be interested in the
success of my career ? If I be really a stranger to
you But, no ! I am not !"

"Now listen to me, Ellen," said Mr. Croft, lean-
ing forward with both his hands upon the table,
and gazing upon me so fixedly that for a moment
I averted my looks: but when I again turned

128

£LLEir FEBCY; OB, THE UE&IOIBS OP AIT ACIBESS.

them upou bim, his countenance exhibited much
of the powerful emotions that were agitating
within him. " You had better not ask me for ex-
planations !"

" Ah !" I ejaculated, as a recollection smote me.

"Those threats which Mr. Parks held out did

they indeed point at something with which yon
are connected ?"

"Threats?" cried Mr, Croft. "What! dared
Parks hold out threats to you ?"

" Mr. Parks is a villain !" I exclaimed vehe-
mently ; " and bis wife, I am afraid, is of as evil
a disposition as himself."

"By heaven!" cried Mr. Croft, with a sudden
paroxysm of rage : but immediately checking
himself, he asked, " What have those people done
to you ?"

"They surrendered me into the power of a
wretch who sought my ruin "

" But — but — you escaped doubtless ? — you es-
caped, Ellen?— did you not ?"

" Is it possible," I exclaimed, " that you know
anything of all this ?"

"No — by heaven no!" ejaculated Mr. Croft
vehemently, " I am asking you the question !
Perhaps in my anxiety it seemed like putting

words into your piouth But tell me ■■"

"If I had not escaped that snare, Mr. Croft,"
I quickly answered, " I should not now be speak-
ing of it. But explain, I beseech you, why all
this interest on my account ? — why this anxiety ?
—why these feelings so powerfully excited now ?"
"Do not ask me, Ellen !" he replied : and again
ho began to pace the room.

" You speak to me as if I were a relation," I
said, approaching him in his troubled walk; "and
every fresh word that is uttered, excites me with
a burning desire to learn something more."

"Have you not just now proclaimed yourself
my enemy ?" he asked, almost with fierceness :
" are you not about to return to London that my
name may be handed over to the cognizance of
justice ? — shall I not be obliged to flee from
this seclusion which I have found — the retreat of
this peaceful village in which I am hiding my
head? Go and do it, Ellen! — but perhaps the

day will come No, no, it shall not! There!

leave me ! I have nothing more to say."

" Oh, but you must tell me what you mean !" I
exclaimed, powerfully excited : " we must not
separate thus ! Show that you have some claim
upon me ; and great as your wickedness has been
towards that unfortunate young woman, I will

nevertheless intercede "

"I tell you not to ask me for explanations!"
he responded petulantly : then, as a sudden thought
seemed to strike him, he said, "But those threats
which the false scoundrel Parks held out to you
——what were they ?"

" He warned me that with one single word he

could make my head bend in shame "

" He said that ? — he dared to say that ?" ex-
claimed Mr. Croft : and paler than ever grew his
face, while he almost gnashed his teeth, and he
clenched his fists with rage: then he resumed his
agitated walk ; and he muttered fiercely to him-
self—but I could not catch the sense of what ho
was thus saying.

"But he told me more than that !" I presently
continued ; " he said that he and his wife were

acquainted with a secret connected with my affairs
which I myself do not even suspect — a secret the
knowledge of which would wring tears from my
eyes and harrow all my feelings. And that secret,
Mr. Croft, I am convinced that it is known to
you ! Ob, tell me what it is, dreadful though it
may be! — for even to know the worst is better
than this intolerable suspense. You see the diffi-
culties in which I am placed. I must tell all the
truth to Juliet and her parents: but if on the
other hand you have the claims of kinship upon
me— Oh, they should not be asserted in vain !
Speak therefore, Mr. Croft — speak, I implore you
— and let these mjsteries be cleared up !"

A powerful conflict was evidently taking place
in the mind of Mr. Croft, as I could tell by the
workings of his countenance and the quivering of
his lips. I waited in breathless suspense for his
decision. There was within me the strong pre-
sentiment that if he did speak out, it would be to
make some revelation of a truly startling cha-
racter.

" Will you sit down again," he at length said,
" and listen to me while I talk of myself."

I obeyed him : he resumed his own seat : but
even then he appeared irresolute whether to pro-
ceed. He started up— he went to the door— ha
opened it and looked out upon the landing and the
stairs, to see if any one was listening. He re-
turned to his seat ; and then fixing his gaze in-
tently upon me, he said, " Eemember, it is at your
own special request that I am about to speak !"

"Yes, yes!" I ejaculated, with all the nervous
suspense of one who stands upon the threshold of
an important revelation.

"Perhaps it may be as well to inform you,
Ellen," he began, '• that I was born a gentleman :
for I have been so ko'c'sed about in the world that
all the gloss of gentility has been rubbed ofif me—
and I know very v. ell ibac there are times when it
may even appear :■■ if I and good breeding had
never been acquainted. However, I was born a
gentleman, and was educated for a gentleman's
profession : namely, the Church. I became a
clergyman — Ah ! start not as if with the wild
hope that it may all yet be well with your friend
Juliet : for I am a clergyman no longer ! When
I was young I was accounted good-looking; and
at least so thought a beautiful creature of whom I
became enamoured, and who loved me in return as
tenderly and as well. I married her. I had a
noble patron in the Earl of Carshalton^— "
" Lord Frederick's father !" I ejaculated.
" The same," responded Mr. Croft. " And you
will presently learn what has placed me so com-
pletely in the power of his villanous son, the
seducer of your friend Juliet. I married, I say :
but at College I had contracted dissipated habits,
which I however had the art to veil to a con-
siderable extent. Marriage did not altogether re-
form me : for, though I became steady in some re-
spects, jet in others I continued the reverse. I
think this is human nature ; for as no one becomes
wicked of a sudden, so is it equally impossiblo to
reform all in a moment. Towards my wife I was
constant, faithful, and affectionate : I adored her.
The Earl of Carshalton had given me a small
living; it was in a northern county, no matter
which. Amongst the vices that remained to me,
was that of gambling. I do not mean gambling

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THU MEMOIEB OF AN ACIKES3,

123

by cords or dice ; for these pursuits would have
taken me away from my wife — and I never neg-
lected her. But I gambled by betting on horse-
races and pursuits of that sort, though I never
attended them. For this species of gaming I had
a mania and an infatuation, — a mania for the thing
itself— an infatuation in the belief that fortune
must soon be favourable to me and that I must
inevitably win large sums of money. Ab, cursed
mania— fatal infatuation — which blasted my hap-
piness and made me what I am !"

He paused, smote his hand against his brow, and
gasped convulsively. There was true remorse
there; and forgetting for the instant his conduct
towards Juliet, I deeply pitied him. In a few mo-
ments he continued.

" Instead of proving favourable to me, fortune

—which for some little while had been neither

hurting nor helping me, but leaving my winnings

and losings pretty equally balanced — took a sudden

No. 17.— Ellen Peecy.

turn and set in dead against me. I lost Gvd
hundred pounds to a man who insisted upon prompt
payment. I had not the sum : the value of my
incumbency was but three hundred a year. Eiiia
was staring me in the face : for that man to breathe
the secret would be fatal to me ! I was reduced
to desperation. And now I come to the crime
which I committed. In an evil moment — when
Satan put a pen in my hand and paper before me,
and guided my arm — I committed a forgery. It
was the name of my patron I forged — the Earl of
Carshalton's. I wrote his name on a bill, which I
drew so that it might have several weeks to run ;
for I had bets upon my book, which in my wretched
infatuation I was convinced could not fail to turn
me in thousands. I borrowed the amount of a
money-lender, with whom I deposited the bill,
begging him to keep the affair secret and to retain
the document in his desk until it should arrive at
maturity : for as a pretext, I declared that my

130

ELIiEK PEECT; OB, THE ilEMOIES OP AN ACTKESS.

friend the Earl, having just purchased a new estate,
had parted with all his available funds, and had
therefore assisted me with his acceptance— but that
he of course did not wish the bill to be put into
circulation. Fortune still continued unfavourable :
I could not meet the bill as its date approached ;
and desperate with my horrified feelings, I con-
fessed the truth to the money-lender, offering to
set apart half my annual income for the liquidation
of the amount. But he was inexorable ; and the
result was that I found myself plunged into a felon's
gaol. Oh, my God ! the agony of that moment
when the massive door closed behind me !"

The unhappy man shuddered visibly at the recol-
lection; and thrusting both his hands into his hair,
he seemed as if he could tear it out by the roots.
A scream nearly pealed forth from my lips as I
fancied that he was going mad. He removed his [
hands ; and recovering his self-possession, if not [
his composure, he continued in the following |
strain: —

" Yes— that was a dreadful moment : but there [
was a moment in reserve more dreadful still ! It '
was when, after having been tried and condemned '
to transportation for Ufe, I sat in my prison-cell, :
with my fond and faithful wife, who resolved to
accompany me to the land of my exile. But why \
was that moment so heartrending ? It was be- •
cause our child was to be left behind us to the care
of its grandfather; and we were weeping and
Bobbing over that beloved daughter !" ,

A terrible scream burst from my lips; and I fell }
down senseless upon the carpet.

As I slowly came back to consciousness, 1 was
reclining in tbe chair to which my father had lifted
me : my bonnet and scarf were on the floor ; and
water had moistened my hair and was trickling
down my cheeks.

"Ah, now you know it, Ellen !" exclaimed my
father: "now you know tho hideous, horrible ,
secret ! — and you will curse me! Yes — you will :

curse the author of your being "

" 'No, father — no !" I wildly exclaimed : " never !"
— and I was precipitating myself towards him to
fall into his arms; but he peremptorily motioned
me back. ;

" No, Ellen— it must not be so !" he said. " I '
am a man whom the law has smitten — whom jus-
tice has branded— a man with a fearful stigma upon i
his name — a convict — a felon ! And you, child,
are pure and virtuous as when I held you in my \
arms within the walls of that prison " 1

" Ob, father !" I exclaimed, " the scene has ;
dimly haunted me ever since ; and it was thus
that the moment you began to depict it, I com-
prehended it all — I knew its reality ! But tell me
—my poor mother ?" I

My father gave me a look which answered the
query : my mother was no more. \

" Oh you wept over me in my childhood," I '
exclaimed : " you wept over me in the anguish of
separation — and therefore you must have loved
me ! No matter what you have been— no matter
what you are — it is my duty to love you in return .
for that love which you bestowed upon me!" |

Again I flew towards my father : this time his
iirnis were open to receive me; and 1 wept long
upon his breast. I sat down again : it all appeared
tu me a dream !

" Let me tell you the remainder of my story," i

said my father : " it will be a relief to my mind
when it is finished: for though bitter and bitter
has been my punishment in every respect, yet
this is again a bitter moment, in which I, as a
parent, have to look my own daughter in the face
and tell her of my burning shame — my branding
infamy !"

" Say not another word upon the subject !" I
passionately cried. "Ob, you must not afflict
yourself thus!"

" Yes — the tale shall be told !" answered my
father : "you already know nearly the whole. You
were sickly in your childhood, Ellen; and it would
have been death to take you on that long and fear-
fu, voyage. Besides, to bring you up with tho
knov. 'edge that you were a convict's daughter, was
a thouj'ht that horrified me. I preferred the bit-
ter alternative of tearing myself away from you
altogether. Your grandfather offered to take care
of you. I knew that he was mean and a miser :
but still I thought that he would do his duty fully
and completely towards his poor little grandchild.
Your mother coincided with all the reasons which
induced us to separate from you — though she her-
self felt, as I did, that it was almost death to
abandon our offspring. Nevertheless it was done.
I went to the penal colony : V' ur mother pro-
ceeded thither in another ship, which sailed pre-
cisely at the same time. But she did not survive
long after her arrival at Sidney. To behold her
husband workins; in chains ■"

" Ob, enough ! enough, father !" I exclaimed,
horrified at the words which had just come from
his lips.

"Well, Ellen, we will not dwell upon that
shade of a picture that is all so darkly terrible !
Your poor mother died ; and thousands of miles
across the seas she lies in an obscure and nameless
grave Her loss at first maddened me ; fir it was
my criminality that had as good as murdered her
who had naturally in her the vigorous health
giving promise of a long life. When I recovered
from that species of delirium of tho brain, a great
change took place within me. I grew sullen and
morose : I studied even to embrute myself, so that
in a callousness of this sort I might lose the sense
of my poignant recollections. In process of time
I escaped "

"You escaped, father?" I said shudderingly.
'•' Then— then— you were not pardoned?"

" No— I am still a convict and a felon, Ellen —
as I told you ere now. But listen, and let me
make an end of this narrative. I escaped, I say :
I made my way to England, working my passage
as a common sailor; and you know in what state
of poverty I arrived at Leeds— for you saw me !
For an instant I was inclined to snatch you in my
arms, and cover you with kisses : but I dared not;
for I could not claim you as my own child — I could
not take you away from your home and make you
cling to misery. Therefore at the very instant
when my heart's yearnings prompted me to fold
you in my embrace, I called up to my aid that
brutality of feeling which I had adopted as it were
my second nature. Your grandfather sent you
from the room ; and he gave me some money on
condition that I would never come near him
again. He vowed that if I attempted to take
you away from him, he would surrender me up
to justice; for that he would rather even have you

ELLEJf PEKCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

131

to know that you were a felon's child than lose
jou from his care. I went away. I did not seek
my sister Mrs. Wakefield ; for I learnt by inquiry
that she was poor; and moreover I had shame
sufilcient to make me dread the thought of look-
ing her in the face. Two years after my visit to
Leeds, I was so pressed by dire poverty that 1
dragged myself thither again. I learnt that your
grandfather lay dangerously ill ; and from a con-
versation which I overheard at a public-house in
the immediate rfeighbourhood of Mr. Forsyth's
abode I ascertained that the old harridan Mrs.
Parks exercised the utmost influence over him. I
knew that she was acquainted with my fearful
secret : I dared not therefore show myself at the
house ; for I felt assured that in order to get me
out of the way, she would not hesitate to surrender
me up into the hands of justice. But still I was
anxious to obtain some insight into what was
going on within those walls where a rich old miser
lay at the mercy of an unscrupulous woman, and
where your fate, Ellen, seemed about to be decided,
whether you should become a wealthy heiress, or
be left in dependence upon ona who could have no
possible regard for you."

" Oh, the horrors of that night !" I murmured,
as all the particulars of the death scene rose vividly
up into my memory. " Father, I was listening —
I beheld your countenance at the window "

" Ah ! you saw me ?" exclaimed Mr. Croft— for
by this name I must continue to speak of my
father. " And the poor old man saw me likewise !
He had just been pointing to the escritoire— and
he then pointed towards me. But tell me, Ellen
—tell me, what did you hear on that memorable
night ?"

" Dreadful words were those that I heard," I
responded: "they are indelibly fixed upon my
memory I"

" Yes— and I also heard dreadful words," con'
tinued my father. " I heard the old man adjure
Mrs. Parks to fulfil all his injunctions. Inspired
by an awful energy — couched in terrible terms —
Were the injunctions that he thus gave. But tell
me, Ellen — how much did you hear ?"

With a shuddering sensation I repeated all
that I had overheard at the time : word for word,
and syllable for syllable, did I detail as much as
had reached my ears of the discourse between my
dying grandsire and his housekeeper, — as the
reader has already found that discourse recorded
in the second chapter of my narrative.

" You see, father," I added, " what an impres-
sion those words made upon my mind : for the event
took place exactly six years ago, when I was only
twelve and a half."

" Ah ! but I heard something more than you,
my child," responded Mr. Croft. " I was listening
at the window before you could have been listening
at the door : I heard your grandfather speak of
his will— that document which he subsequently
pointed out to Mrs. Parks as being concealed in
the escritoire ; and though I could catch but
broken sentences, yet sufficient reached my ears to
prove to me that he had left you his heiress."

" Good heavens ! is this possible ?" I exclaimed,
appalled at the stupendous wickedness of which,
as 1 now comprehended, Mrs. Parks had been
guilty; while my thoughts naturally associated
her son as an accomplice in the crime.

"Yes, Ellen," continued my father; "you have
been thus cruelly defrauded — and I have been
powerless to help you. Know you that death is
the penalty of the last offence which I committed ?
— I mean my escape from bondage in the penal
settlement : and though that awful extreme might
not be carried out, yet the lesser alternative were
in itself most horrible. To be sent to Norfolk

Island "

" For God's sake, father, dwell not upon these
things !" I in agony and anguish exclaimed. " You
have told me enough to prove that you could not

help me "

" No— I was in the power of that vile woman
and her infamous son," answered my father.
" Shortly after Mr. Forsyth's funeral, Mrs. Parks
took you up to London. I have already told you
that I was suffering the direst poverty — the most

utter destitution "

" Alas, poor father 1" I murmured, almost suffo-
cated with grief.

" In desperation I paid a visit to Mrs. Parks, At
her lodgings in London "

" I knew it, father. I heard your voice as you
bade them farewell. Mrs. Parks and her son an-
swered you "

" They gave me money," continued Mr. Croft ;
"and with mingled insolence and significancy
they bade me come near them no more. Though
almost completely callous to everything in this life
— and though studying to embrute myself as much
as possible — yet I was not utterly indifferent to
^our welfare. I did not on that occasion speak
out plainly : but still I said enough to convince
MIrs. Parks and her son that I knew they had de-
frauded you. Mrs. Parks assured me that she
would rear you well, and that she had already
made arrangements to afford you an excellent edu-
cation. I was compelled to be satisfied ; and I
went away. Seeking some seclusion, I dwelt
quietly for about three years and a half, when I
learnt that Mrs. Parks was no more. I repaired
to London — I saw her son : he told me that you
had gone to live with my sister Mrs. Wakefield.
I myself was again plunged into the direst poverty :
and I was base enough again to become the reci-
pient of pecuniary succour from the hands of the
villain who was perpetuating his mother's fraud
I towards you. Then another interval passed — an
interval of about two years ; and this brings me
I down to a date of only a few months back. Again
I was I reduced to destitution : again was I com-
j pelled to seek the assistance of the villain Parks.
i I then learnt to my astonishment that the Misa
i Trafford who had recently appeared with such tri-
j umphant success upon the dramatic stage, was
! none other than yourself. Ellen, perhaps you can
' believe me when I give you the assurance that on
receiving this announcement my heart melted
within me — my soul dissolved with indescribable
i emotions ; and, Ob, my God ! I wept in bitterness
: at the thought that I dared not claim you as my
! daughter. But then more than ever was it impe-
I riously necessary to keep the stupendous secret.
j You were earning a brilliant renown for yourself;
and it was not lor me to cast a blight upon the
feelings of your young heart by revealing to you
those hideous secrets which you have learnt to-day !
I Parks assured me that you were as good as you
were talented, and that your character was un-

133

EILEN PEBCT; OE, TUB MEJIOIS8 OV XTS ACTKESS.

blemished as your fame was great. I did not ask 'justice: and if I fled without succouring hiua in
where you lived : I sought not to know : I dared bis aims, he would cause a hue and cry to be raised
not trust myself: I was afraid lest in a moment of , after me. These were his menaces ! — and I was
madness — of delirious parental pride — I might compelled to submit. Oh, it is dreadful for me as
obey the promptings of my heart and rush to your a father to be forced to make all these atowals to
dwelling that I might seek your presence. Parks ' you as my daughter !"

oflfered to allow me a small quarterly stipend if I " Then why dwell upon the subject ?" I asked,
would go into some seclusion and trouble him no in anguish of mind.

more with my visits. I readily assented. But! " Because you roust know everything," was my
before I left London on that occasion, I resolved to i sire's reply. " I will now give you a proof of the
see you upon the stage. I fulfilled my desire. At | devilish aptitude for mischief which characterizes
the remotest point from the lustre of the foot- j that young nobleman whose look is so ingenuous,
lights — amidst the crowd at the entrance of the whose language is so specious, whose voice is so

pit — I took my stand. Ah ! I cannot describe the

feelings with which I beheld you No, no— it is

impossible !" — and now my father sobbed audibly.

" And I the while," I murmured, deeply affected,
" was ignorant in the presence of whom I was
thus displaying the little talent which heaven has
given me !"

" Let me hasten to make an end of this narra-
tive," said my sire, abruptly. " On the following
day, when I was about to leave London," he con-
tinued, " my evil star threw me in the way of the
Earl of Carshalton. Long years had elapsed
since last we met : but the recognition was imme-
diate and mutual. The terror which seized upon
me — ' my speechless confusion— my trembling
frame, betrayed the truth : I dared not deny my
identity. His lordship was leaning upon the arm

soft, and whose manners are so fascinating. All
the details of his project were arranged and com-
bined with the utmost carefulness ; and every pos-
sible difEculty was weighed, foreseen, and pro-
vided against. His father possesses an estate at
no great distance hence : Lord Frederick Eavens-
clififo therefore knew Embledon — he knew likewise
that the minister's name is Croft. I was to per-
sonate this Mr, Croft, so that if Mr. Norman
should perchance refer to the Clergy List he would
arrive at the conclusion that all was fair and
straightforward and everything was being con-
ducted with honour. Such were the arrangements ;
and again I repeat I was compelled to submit.
Lord Frederick told me that a young lady who was
residing with the Normans', would act as bride-
maid : but he did not happen to mention the name.

of an elegant and handsome young man, whom a ! From his father's lips he had learnt that my real

certain family resemblance indicated to be his son,
The Earl addressed me coldly and distantly : but
he gave me to understand that my secret was safe
wkh him. I poured forth the expressions of my
gratitude— and hurried away. That encounter had
given me such a shock that I felt exceedingly ill :
I returned to my humble lodgings ; and for the

name was Percy: but it evidently did not for a
moment strike him that there could be any
possible connexion between yourself and me. Con-
ceive, therefore, my surprise, Ellen — my conster-
nation and dismay — when I beheld i/ou enter the
room where the mock marriage was to take place !
Yet all my feelings I succeeded in veiling. I

next two or three days kept my bed. When again i saw how you contemplated me: I understotd

able to leave the room, I determined to lose no
time in quitting London. Again my evil star was
working mischief against me : I fell in with that
handsome young man on whose arm I had seen
the Earl of Carshalton leaning ; and he stopped
me. I saw that my presence had inspired him
with some idea : but he quickly gave me to under-
stand that though he had learnt from his father's
lips all the particulars of my secret, he did not in-
tend to injure me. At the same time he signified
that bis forbearance depended upon my readiness
to do him a service. He made an appointment to
meet me again in a few days ; and I dared notdis*
obey his injunctions. "VVo met on several occa-
sions ; and he unveiled his plans. Then I disco-
vered that the beautifully handsome form of Lord
Frederick Kavenscliffe contained the heart of a
fiend. He told me how he was deeply enamoured
of a beautiful girl who was too virtuous to become
his mistress, but who was in a position of life
which rendered it utterly impossible that he should
honourably espouse her. He told me likewise
how, by means of a talc as well-contrived as it was
false, he had induced this girl's parents to agree to
a marriage between their daughter and himself, to
be solemnized under circumstances of the strictest
privacy. Now you begin to comprehend, Ellen,
how that young villain was weaving his meshes
around myself. I was completely in his powei

wherefore: I knew that the recollection of my
image as you had seen me at your grandfather's
house, must be hovering in your mind. When
the proceeding was accomplished, I left the houre
with the least possible delay. But in obedience to
the previously given instructions of Lord Frederick,
I came to Embledon ; and here, still retaining the
name of Mr. Croft, I fixed my abode. The object
of such a proceeding may be easily understood.
No marriage certificate was given at the time of
the mock ceremony ; and I was to be here in
readiness to answer any letter that Lord Frederick
himself might sooner or later be compelled to write
to me. When, after your poor aunt's death, you
visited Embledon, you saw how careful I was to
prevent you from prosecuting any inquiries which
might lo9d to discovery and exposure in respect to
the foul fraud that had been committed ; and you
saw likewise how I did my best to precipitate your
departure. I will not speak of the feeling which
I experienced during that interview with you, my
own daughter "

" No, no, father !" I exclaimed : " dwell not
upon details that must be painful to you! But
tell me— has not Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe writ-
ten to you "

" Yes," answered my parent : " a few days ago
he wrote, acquainting me with the importunities
01 her whom he had deceived, and of her continued

If I refused my assent to the diabolical plan which I entreaties that he would procure the certificate,
he proposed, he would give me into the bands of But I did not answer his letter. I reflected that

after all 1 bad now ceased to be in bis power — or
at least tbat be dared not betray me, for fear lest
I should turn round and accuse bim of an offence
which carries the severest penalties. You say that
he has produced a certiCcate P"

"It is here!" I answered: and I showed the
document to my father.

" It is Lord Frederick's own handwriting, most
craftily disguised," he rejoined. "Eeceiving no
answer to my letter, he may have fancied that I
Lad left Embledon; or he may have suspected the
truth, and have seen by my silence tbat I was re-
solved to commit myself no further in his iniqui-
tous proceedings. Therefore has he evidently
lorged that certificate to appease and satisfy the
mind of Juliet for the present. As for the future,
he doubtless trusts to the chapter of accidents to
relieve him from the entanglement in which his
villany has placed bim. Perhaps he thinks that
when discovery takes place sooner or later— or
when becoming tired of his victim, he means ruth-
lessly to abandon her — the secret will be hushed
up for the sake of her character and reputation P
But he is one of those young men who are pre-
cociously bold in the perpetration of villany, as
well as astute in the combination of its details : he
has confidence in his own resources of iniquity ;
and he cares but little for the future, so long as he
obtains a present means of gratifying his passions.
Now, Ellen, I have told you everything: but I
should not have revealed all these things to you
to-day were it not tor the most urgent reasons.
In the first place, if ever the hand of justice shall
be again laid upon me, I would not have my
daughter, unconscious of her own parentage, be
the one to surrender me up ; and in the second
place, after all you had told me of the threats held
out by the villain Parks, I made up my mind that
it was better you should hear the statement of by-
gone events from my lips, than perhaps receive a
garbled history from his own."

CHAPTER XXV.

POOH JULIET.

There was an interval of silence — during which
both my father and myself reflected profoundly,
and painfully likewise. At length he said, " 0
Ellen ! this is a miserable, miserable day for
you !"

" It is miserable for me to know that I possess
a father who is unhappy," I replied, inwardly con-
vulsed with sobs, and the tears trickling down my
cheeks. " What can I do for you ? Can we not
henceforth live together?"

'•' Ellen, it is impossible !" he exclaimed. " You
would blush for your sire; and I could not beai- to
look you constantly in the face and to know how
utterly unworthy I am of your filial love ! No, no
—my mind is now made up how to act ! If since
my escape from the penal colony, I have hitherto
remained in England, it has doubtless been be-
cause my heart has felt a yearning to be upon the
same soil and breathe the same atmosphere with
yourself, Ellen : but now that all is known, and
that there are no secrets between us, I will con-
sult my safety — perhaps more for your sake than

my own. I will proceed to France. Haply I may
be enabled to earn my livelihood : but if not, I
know that my daughter from her own wealth will
spare her father a pittance."

" All, all shall be your's 1" I vehemently ex-
claimed.

"Not so, Ellen," rejoined my father. "Rest
assured that from this moment I am au altered
man. Not for worlds would I deprive you of that
which, thank heaven ! by your brilliant talents you
are (earning. At the same time, as I can never
more receive one shilling from the baud of the vil-
lain Parks, I shall accept from my daughter a
sufficiency to give me bread. Yes, Ellen — we
shall presently separate, to meet no more. Do
not attempt to divert me from my purpose. Re-
member, it is my safety which I am consulting,
and which I am about to ensure ! No more,
therefore, upon that subject!— In reference to the
one which has brought you to Embledon, you
must use your own discretion. This will be taxed
to the very utmost ; and I dare not conjecture
what the issue will be."

" Trouble not yourself on that point, my dear
father," I answered : " the task is indeed a diiTi-
cult one ; for poor Juliet must know the truth

tbat she is not a wedded wife However," I

suddenly checked myself, being anxious to avoid
afflicting my father's mind, " I have no doubt that
everything may be made to progress without ex-
posure. When will you leave Embledon? Oh!
come with me, dear father "

" No, Ellen," interrupted Mr. Croft resolutely,
but not harshly : " the moment for separation miist
come; — why therefore postpone it? Take your
departure ! Within an hour I likewise shall
leave. Come, Ellen — one last embrace — and
then "

I threw myself into my sire's arms; and for
some minutes he strained me to bis breast. I
wept plenteously — I sobbed convulsively. For-
gotten were all his misdeeds : I only recollected
that I had found a father— that he was uuhappy—
and that I was about to leave him. I know not
how I at length tore myself away— or rather how
I suffered him to compel me to depart. But I at
length recollected the absolute necessity of re-
straining my feelings, when the door of his room
had closed behind me and 1 was descending the
stairs. On issuing from the house, I did not im-
mediately return to the little inn: I struck into a
neighbouring field ; and there I sat upon the step
of a stile, reflecting upon all that I had heard,
and again giving free vent to my tears. At length
I repaired to the public-house, and ordered tho
post-chaise to be gotten in readiness; for I bad
retained the equipage there. My journey was
speedily resumed; and. it was about one in tha
afternoon when I thus quitted Embledon.

For some time I lay back in the vehicle, think-
ing of all the mysteries that within the few last
hours had been cleared up to my knowledge; and
thinking likewise with equal painfulness of the ter-
rible blow which on my return to London I should
be compelled to deal at the heart of my unhappy
friend Juliet. I aroused myself from these medi-
tations as I approached the cottage occupied by
the old gipsy and her grand-daughter; and I won-
dered how St. Clair had acted when on the pre-
ceding night he discovered my escape. The equi-

131

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEE3S.

page rolled past ; and I could discern no one at
the windows. Tlie cottage was soon out of sight:
but as the chaise turned a bend in the road, I be-
held Zarah leaning against a gate opening into a
field. She did not appear to bo taking any notice
of the advancing equipage. I endeavoured to catch
her eyes, to throw upon her a look expressive of
gratitude for her behaviour of the previous even-
ing : but the idea struck me that she was either
absorbed in the profoundest reflection, or else that
she was obstinately bent upon not seeing me. • All
of a sudden, just as the chaise seemed to be shoot-
ing completely past her, she advanced rapidly to-
wards it — threw something in at the window — and
the next instant was lost to my view.

Wondering what this strange proceeding could
mean, I hastily picked up the object she had
thrown into the chaise ; and I found it to be a
small sealed billet. I opened it. The writing was
in a bold masculine hand ; the spoiling was not
altogether correct : but I give the contents of the
note without preserving those orthographical
errors : —

" Remember, Miss Percy, the promise you made
me last night, that you will not give publicity to
anything that directly or indirectly concerns my
grandmother or myself. Beware of Edwin St.
Clair 1 He was furious when he found that you
bad escaped : but he did not suspect my compli-
city. Keep incessantly upon your guard ; and do
not think of attending to any strange or suspicious
request to visit any unknown place, or keep any
appointment which under the most plausible pre-
text may be given you. But if despite of all your
'< caution, treachery should prevail— if you should
i again find yourself in the power of Edwin St.
Clair — use these words: — ' Se who smells the
white rose, sleeps the sleep of death !' — I con-
jure you. Miss Percy, not to reveal the source
from which you obtained these cabalistic words.
If I had not faith in your honour, I would not
entrust you to this extent.

" Zaeah."

How often and how often were fresh mysteries
to arise in respect to Edwin St. Clair ! But the
present one seemed only to be an expansion of that
which originated with Lady Lilla Essendine. The
new one had the semblance of being a sequence
and a corollary to the former. Lilla had bidden me
present a flower to Edwin St. Clair, should a cer-
tain emergency arise; and it was to be accom-
panied by the demand, "Do you recognise this
symbol?" What the flower then symbolized was
utterly beyond conjecture : but Zarah's note seemed
to give a fearful meaning and significance to that
symbol. Was the question which, in obedience to
Lady Lilla's hint I had put to St. Clair, now an-
swered by those sinister words prompted by Zarah,
"He who smells the white rose sleeps the sleep
of death !"

Strange and fearful being, St. Clair!— what
stupendous mysteries surrounded him ! I shud-
dered to give scope to conjecture : I contemplated
his image as that of a man who was too profoundly
enshrouded in such dark mysteries to be otherwise
than criminal in soma sense or another. But on
the other hand, sincere was my gratitude towards
Zarah for having put me in possession of a talis-

man of protection against the designs of one who
was evidently bent upon persecuting me to the
very extreme.

Ah ! a sudden thought struck me. Was not
Lady Lilla Essendine summoned into the old
gipsy's presence through the medium of a white
rose ? — and again methought that the same sym-
bol which had its weight with Edwin St. Clair,
bad an equal influence with her ladyship, al-
though it was at her own suggestion that I had
used that symbol towards St. Clair. But now,
after the billet I had received from Zarah, whatso-
ever sinister significancy attached itself to that
floral symbol in reference to St. Clair, seemed by
irresistible associations to be reflected towards
Lady Lilla Essendine also ; and it was with a
shuddering paroxysm that I said to myself, " As-
suredly there is something wrong — something
darkly suspicious, relative to the one as well as to
the other."

I arrived at Birmingham; and thence I at once
took the train for London, It was seven o'clock in
the evening when the cab which conveyed me from
Euston Square Station, reached the theatre. The
reader may be surprised thus to perceive that I in-
tended to make ray appearance on the stage ou this
particular evening — particularly after all the
fatigues I had gone through, and all the anxiety of
mind I had experienced. But I felt that I was
bound to keep faith, to the utmost of my ability,
with the manager and the public : I felt likewise
that my unexplained absence might give encou-
ragement to the surmises and whispers of scandal;
and I was resolved to do naught that should in any
way imperil my good name. I knew that Juliet
would make all requisite arrangements so that I
should find whatsoever I required in my dressing-
room at the theatre ; for I had given her to un-
derstand, previous to my departure, that it was
quite possible I should not arrive at the theatre
until the latest moment.

Juliet did not come to me in my dressing-room ;
for since her supposed marriage with Lord Fre-
derick Eavensclifi'e, she had not once set foot be-
hind the scenes. Mrs. I^orman came to me on
hearing that I had arrived ; and I saw that the
worthy creature fully believed that I had merely
been on a visit to Lady Lilla Essendine. She
was not however in good spirits ; and she told
me that Juliet had been very much indisposed all
day long — that she had kept her own chamber —
that she could not even see Lord Frederick when
he called— but that by a strange inconsistency (as
Mrs. Norman represented it) she wanted to come
to the theatre in the evening. Her mother had
however succegded in dissuading her. I had the
greatest difficulty in keeping my countenance nid
concealing my painful emotions, while the unsus-
pecting Mrs. Norman was giving me these expla-
nations; and. Oh! how cruel a pang shot through
my heart, as mentally apostrophizing my kind
friend, I thought to myself, " Perhaps to-morrow
you will know all the horrible truth in reference to
your daughter and the villain who has ruined
her !"

I entertained serious fears lest I should be un-
able to do justice to the part which I had to per-
form : but when once upon' the stage, I was in-
spired with that dramatic spirit which now seemed
to have interwoven itself with my entire being ;

and I could judge by the amount of applause
which I received, that I was ia no way inferior
to my antecedent personifications of tho same cha-
racter.

The performance was over : I was seated with
Mr. and Airs. Norman in tho carriage, returning
to Hunter Street. I was about to enter upon a
task which I dreaded— Oh ! dreaded with the
deepest and direst apprehension. I knevr that
within a brief space I must tell Juliet everything
that so vitally concerned her : I knew that she
would not seek her couch before the terrific sus-
pense that she must have endured and that had
rendered her indisposed, was fully cleared up.
Yet, as I was ignorant of the course she might
decide upon pursuing, I did not deem it expedient
to break the frightful truth to her father and
mother in the first instance : I therefore endea-
voured to converse in my wonted cheerful mood

seemed to notice how the tears were raining down
my cheeks : she gazed upon me with that half-
stupified, despairing look of her's that seemed to
denote a veritable palsy of tho brain.

" For Grod's sake, do not gaze upon me thus,
dearest Juliet !" I said, throwing my arms round
her neck. " Ob, better far to behold you give
way to the most passionate lamentations, than to
see you look so desolate and forlorn !"

" Ellen," she answered, as I sat down by her
side— and her voice was so low and plaintive it
well nigh caused all the bitterness of my affliction
to burst forth anew, — " I have been smitten a
blow which I can never recover : I have received
a shock that is felt in the innermost confines of
my being ! Happiness and I have bidden each
other farewell for ever ! Utter, utter woe is
henceforth my portion !"

I was on the point of suggesting that there

with them, while the carriage was conveying us j was yet one hope — the hope that Lord Frederick
homeward. It was difficult thus to dissemble — Eavenscliffe might be induced to repair the fearful
diflicult indeed to seem gay when the soul was so ' injury he had inflicted: but I held back the words
profoundly troubled, for a variety of reasons, as j — I dared not aflford utterance to that hope— for
mine then was ! all in an instant to my mind recurred the descrip-

At length Hunter Street was reached. We re- tion which my father had given of the young
paired to the parlour where supper was laid ; and nobleman's unprincipled character. Juliet bowed
Juliet was not there. A maid-servant entered and herself forward — her elbows upon her knees — her

said, " Miss Norman feels too unwell to come
down-.ftairs : but she hopes that you, Mis3" — ad-
dressing herself to me — " will go and see her as
soon as you can."

"Poor Julie!" said Mrs. Norman. "Come,
Ellen : let us go to her fur a few minutes."

" I feel too tired to sit up to supper," I said;
"and I shall speedily seek my own chamber."

I bade Mr. Norman good night ; and I accom-
panied Mrs. Norman up to Juliet's room. Juliet
was seated, in deshahillee, in a large easy chair by
the fire that was blazing in the grate : but the
moment we entered, she started up and threw her-
self into my arms. I was resolved not to give
her the slightest intimation, either by look, sign,
or pressure of the hand, in her mother's presence,
of the tremendous truth which I had to impart.
I knew very well that suspense the most acute
was even preferable to the amount of anguish she
would presently have to endure.

hands supporting her head — her countenance
buried in those hands. Thus she sat for some
minutes— utterly motionless— not even her bosom
palpitating. I would have given the world to be-
hold a tear trickle between her fingers: for in
weeping there would have been relief for the over-
charged heart. But no !— her's was a woe too
profound for tears. Not for her was it destined
that Hope should yet descend from the celestial
sphere, to roll away the stone from the sepulchre
of her heart and sit therein as an angel !

There was a long silence; and at length Juliet
raised her countenance. It was of marble pale-
ness : the hue of health which used to be upon the
cheeks, had completely vanished ; while the dark-
ness of her dishevelled hair threw out that alabas-
ter whiteness with even a death-like effect. Her
fine eyes, of a blue as deep as that of the violet,
fixed themselves upon me with a cold gaze that
seemed in perfect keeping with the rigid expres-

Disengaging herself from my arms, she darted i sion of her features. The colour too had forsaken
upon me an inquiring glance : but she gleaned | licr lips, — which being rich and full, now looked
nothing from my looks, either good or bad. She all tbe more corpse-like in the absence of their
resumed her seat, and could scarcely restrain her i wonted hue.

impatience while her mother was tenderly ques-
tioning her as to how she now felt. She assured
Mrs. Norman she was better, and should be quite
well in the morning after a good night's rest,^
which declaration she used for the purpose of
satisfying her mother and getting her to leave the
room as soon as possible. Mrs. Norman at length

"Tell me all that has occurred, Jlllen," she said,
in a voice that was glacial and monotonous.

"The history is brief, dearest Julie," I answered,
— " but sad, very sad ! You are prepared to leara
that — that" — and I hesitated in what terms to
couch the intimation I wanted to convey.

" That I am not a wife," she said, speaking as if

retired ; and scarcely had the door closed behind ! ii a voiJe of ice. " Yes, I am prepared to learn
her, when Juliet with feverish eagerness ejacu- \ ^'^'^ immense is my disgrace— how irreparable my

Jated, " Tell me, Ellen— what is my fate ?"

"For God's sake compose yourself!" I said,
straining her in my arms, and holding her counte-
nance tight against my bosom to stifle the cry
which I feared might peal forth from her lips.

But she only ejaculated, "Ah!"— and then she
sank dpwn into her chair, with a look so forlorn, so
desolate, so woe-begone, that I burst into an agony
of weeping.

But Juliet herself did not weep : she scarcely

dishonour !— And yet," she ejaculated, a sudden
change all in a moment taking place in her entire
being— the marble statue expanding into life — the
efiigy of ice becoming full of animation as if with
Promethean fire,—" he must love me, frightful
though his conduct has been ! And if not me, at
least he will love his child ! — and he will not suffer
it to come into the world branded with dis-
grace !"
This change fiom glacial despair to the frenzy

123

rLLEX PEKCT; OS, THE ItEJIOIKS OP AS ACIEESS.

(H exaltation, 'vras eo abrupt that it frightened me:
and I felt that I became deadly pale in my ton;.
I knew what she meant, — that RayenselifTe would
marrv her : but though I could not find it in mv
heart to destroy this hope, I nevertheless dared not
encourage it.

" Tou do not ansirer me, Ellen !" she exclaimed :
and the odoar had come back to her lips — and
there vaa s hectic flash upon her cheeks — and her
eyes wcfe vibrating with feverish light. " Tell me
^t-ell me quickly, for G-od"s sake ! do you know
anvthing that can prevent Frederick from doing
me that last — that only act of justice ?"

'• I know nothing to prevent him," I guardedly
responded, '■' beyond the deduction which it is im-
possible to avoid making from his antecedent con-
duct towards you."

"TesT' exclaimed Juliet, with a certain wild-
ness : " bat when I kneel at his feet and implore
him for the sake of his yet unborn child — when I
tell him that I forgive all the past — and that if he
love me no more, he need never see me again
when once he shall have given me that title of
wife which may enable me to become a mother
without shame and to look the world in the face
O G-od, he cannot poss'biy refuse me!"

The fountains of Juliet's feelings were now
completely unsealed; and the t.ears gushed out
copiouslv. Long and passionately she wept : she
was relieved somewhat ; and at length wiping her
eyes, she said, " Tell me everything, Ellen I And,
Oh : accept my Einoerest^ most heartfelt thanks for
the kind, the generoos interest jou have displayed
on my behaif !"

" I repeat, dearest Julie, the history is brief. I

went to Embledon: I saw — I saw — ilr. Croft

but be is now no longer there — he has gone^ie
Las fled."

'•But what did he tell you, Ellen?" asked
Juliet. " If I recollect right, you informed me

yesterday that you had seen him before 1

mean before he lent himself to that dreadfiU per-
fidy ?"

" Yes, yes— I had once seen him — at my grand-
father's house at Leeds — when I was a girl— but
only for a minute "

" And yon knew his handwriting ?'' said Juliet.

'■Yes — I knew that also," I responded, consi-
derably agitated. " But believe me, dearest Julie,
I knew so little — so very, very little of him, that

when I saw him on the evening you know to

which evening I refer 1 was not saxe he

was the same. And, Oh I if for an instant I had
known that he was assuming a sacred character to
which he had no right "

" Good heavens, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet ;
" this self- vindication on your part is utterly un-
called for. Bat I see that you have nothing more
te tell ; and Gjd knows you have told me enough !
Oh, my poor father 1 my poor mother 1 — what will
joa both eaj when this frightful truth shall be
broken to joa ? — Ellen," she adde 1, quickly, bit-
terly, and almost fiercely, " if I did not think that
he would yet do me j ustice, I should be driven to
de^tair — I should lay violent hands upon myself!
Or else — or dse," she continued more slowly, while
her ooontenanee became pale again ; " my love
would turn to hatred— and I would sacrifice every
consideration in order to wreak a deadly vengeance
npon him who has dishonoured me 1 '

'•' For heaven's sake talk not thus," I said, shud-
dering at the bare idea of that exposure in which
my own father would become involved.

" Xo, no— I could not do it I" rejoined Juliet,
again bursting into tears. "I must live for the
sake of my as yet unborn babe! — and I must
not brand its father with dishonour, nor invoke the
vengeance of the law to smite him 1 To-morrow,
Ellen, I will seek an interview with Frederick
— an interview at which you must be present. In
the meantime let nothing be known to my parents:
their hearts need not be rent prematurely I — Alas,
the hour may come all too soon !"

She stopped short; and again she found relief
in tears. Afier a little while she assured me that
she was more composed; and she begged me to
retire to my own chamber, for that I most stand
in need of rest I saw that she was in reality
more tranquiUised, though still labouring under
the deepest affliction;— and I at last consented to
withdraw. Bat twice during the rest of that
night did I steal forth from my own chamber, to
listen at the door of her's. All was still. Oa the
second occasion I peeped in ; and I found that
she was buried in a deep slumber : for even the
mightiest aSictian, overpowered by its own weight,
will sink through exhaustion into repose.

On leaving my chamber in the morning, I re-
paired to Juliet's. 1 found her even more com>
posed than I could have anticipated ; for her mind
was made up to envisage her position resolutely;
and she was no doubt sustained by the h-jpe that
L?rd Frederick Bavenscliffe would make her the
only reparation that it now lay in his power to
afford. As it was his lordship's custom to call at
about noon, Juliet decided upon keeping her cham-
ber until his arrival; so that there might be the
less chanc3 of betraying her feelings to her parents.
Mi. and Mrs. Xorman went out togetiier in the
carriage at about mid-day ; and Juliet then sought
the drawing-room in order to be ready for the re-
ception of Lord Frederick. Her parents had not
left the house ten minutes when there was a loud
double knock at the street doer. For a moment
Juliet started and became deadly pale, as if she
felt that her entire fate now hung in the balance :
but the next moment she said, " It is not Frede-
rick's knock."

The servant entered and handed me a note : the
writing of the address was immediately recognised
by me ; it was that of the Marquis of Dalrymple.
I was on the point of handing it back again and de-
clining to open it — when it struck me that such
a proceeding would only seem singular to the ser-
vant, and necessitate an explanation to Juliet. I
accordingly read Vhe billet, the contents of which
were as follow :—

"The Marquis of Dalrymple requests the honour
I of an immediate interview with Miss Percy. Miss
( Percy cannot fail to perceive the necessity of
j gfranting this interview, when the Marquis of'
i Dalrymple informs her that he seeks an explaaa-
I tion of the astounding statement made by Miss
! Percy to the Duchess of Ardleigh, to the effect
I that the Marquis had been guilty of insulting con-
duct, of which he is utterly incapable. Indeed,
: the accusation is so serious that the Marquis would
j be j ustified in using stronger terms, — only that he
' feels convinced there must be some extraordiaarj

mistake, which iliss Percy will no doubt bo en-
abled to explain."

The reader may suppose that I was inCnitely
astonished at the contents of this billet; and I
could not possibly refuse the interview that was
demanded. Juliet was too much absorbed in her
own reflections to pay any attention to me ; and
therefore without giving a syllable of explanation
to my unhappy friend, 1 descended to the parlour to
which the ilarquis of Da'rymplo had been shown.
He looked exceedingly pale and agitated ; and
as I entered, he bowed with coldness, but not
with hauteur. I motioned hita to be seated;
and taking a chair, I awaited the opeuing of the
discourse.

" I cannot fancy. Miss Percy," he began by

saying, "that you wilfully and maliciously in-

Tented a tale for the purpose of prrjudicing me

in wj mother's estimation : but she just now

Ko. 18. — Elieh Pbect.

sought an opportunity to havo a serious conversa.
tion with me "

"My lord," I interrupted him— and I spoko
with a cold reserve, — " so far from your having a
right to level an accusation against me—"

" iliss Percy I" he exclaimed vehemently, " there
13 some terrible mistake! When did I ins alt you?
how did I insult you ? What possible word cr
deed of mine could you construe into an insolent
and dishonourable overture?''

'•■ ily lord," I said, in astonishment, " can you
deny that you made use of the infamous services
of ilr. Peaseblossom "

'• I ?" ejaculated the Marquis, with an amaze*
ment so real that it was impossible to imagine that
he was playing a part. '-'I utterly despise tl.o
man ! He is ii hanger-on of my father's — a syc-
pbaut— a parasite, as you have doubtless seem
but until now I had certainly believed that he was
harmless !"

B»

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1Z<3

generous feelings and upright principles ! I will
[ importune you no more. 'We will be friends, Ellen

God bless you ! Farewell !"

With these last words, uttered amidst the deepest

nestly insisted that I should be present at this
interview, I dii not deem it proper to interfere in
what was passing, unless absolutely called upon so
to do. The young nobleman's back was towards

emotions, the young Marquis wrung my hand and ( me ; and I could not therefore see what expression
precipitately left the room. I was much affected his countenance had. But that he was irresolute
by the generosity of his conduct, as well as by his ' bow to act or what to say, I could full well judge
grief and the hopeless passion he experienced for from the interval of silence which followed that
me. I remained there for a few minutes to compose | most touching and agonizing appeal on Juliet's
my looks and collect my thoughts; and then I part. All of a sudden my unhappy friend rose up
ascended to the drawing-room where I had left , from her kneeling posture ; and as I caught a

Juliet. I found her seated at a table, with her
countenance buried in her hands ; and I knew that
her mind must have undergone some fresh revul-
sion— that all her grief had revived — that her for-
titude and her calmness were lost. I hastened to

glimpse of her countenance, I perceived that it now
wore the fixed rigid look of utter despair.

" I understand you, my lord," she said, in a
deep hollow voice : " you will not grant to me this
act of justice ! If your mind be made up to in.

console and strengthen her : but in the words that flict this fearful wrong upon me, not all the prayers

I used I was careful to encourage no hope : inas
much as from the Marquia of Dalrymple's lips I
had just received another proof of the black perfidy
of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe's heart. Indeed,
I proposed to communicate to Juliet what I had
80 recently learnt, in order that she might be pre-
pared for the very worst that could happen at
the expected interview, — when the door of the
drawing-room opened and Lord Frederick Bavens
cliffe made his appearance.

CHAPTEE XXVL

JUI.IEl'9 ?ATE.

Os beholding Juliet in that posture which indi-
cated so much affliction, and on perceiving that I
myself w:;s in the attitude of one administering
consolatiou. Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe stopped
short for a moment upon the threshold ; and his
countenance betrayed a guilty confusion. He
could not do otherwise than suspect that there
was something wrong— and all the more so inas-
much as Juliet had been denied to him the pre-
vious day on the plea of indisposition. In my
regards, as I turned towards him, he beheld no
encouragement — nothing to reassure him — nothing
to enable him to clutch at the hope that there was
some other cause than his own stupendous perfidy
for Juliet's affliction. Being however, as the
reader must ere this have comprehended, a thorough
proficient in the art of hypocrisy and dissimulation,
Lord Frederick quickly regained an outward air
of self-possession in one sense ; but in another
afiecting to be concerned and frightened at Juliet's
visible distress, he hastened forward.

"Here's Lord Frederick!"! hastily whispered
to my unhappy .|riend; for, she had not heard the
door open.

Juliet arose with a start : then for an instant she
stood as if undecided how to act— her countenance
deadly pale, and her features convulsed with the
emotions that were agitating in her bosom. But
suddenly throwing herself upon her knees, and
stretching forth her arms with the' hands clasped
imploringly, towards Lord Frederick, she passion-
ately exclaimed "Do mo justice! make me your
wife. Oh, for the sake of your unborn child, make
me your wife— and all shall be forgiven !"

1 had sped to shut the door which Lord Frede-
rick had left open ; and I retired to the remotest
pf\rt of the room: for although Juliet had ear-

to which my lips might give utterance can possibly
move you !"

" But what means all this i" asked Lord Frede-
rick, assuming an air of bewilderment, — his object
being doubtless to ascertain the precise extent to
which the details of his villany were known.

" Oh, my lord !" exclaimed Juliet, with anguished
vehemence, " is it possible that you can play this
hypocritical part ? Would you make me think
that there is no baseness of which you are not ca-
pable ? Why, for all the love that my heart be-
stowed upon you, have you given me back such
utter treachery ? Your hatred, your scorn, your
contempt would have been better thiin this tre-
mendous injury — this scarcely reparable wrong
which you have inflicted upon me ! Ob, once
more— once more^and for the last time — do I
beseech you to do me justice!"

Again she fell at his feet : but through the dim-
ness of the tears which filled my eyes, I could not
discern the precise expression of her countenance !
Agonized it must have been : but whether there
were the slightest scintillation of hope glimmering
there, I knew not.

"Yes, for the last time," she continued, in
accents of indescribable plaintiveness and most
touching entreaty, " do I implore you to give
me the name that shall enable me to look the
world in the face ! Oh, let me not be doomed to
look upon him whom I have loved so well, — let
me not be destined to regard the father of my
child as the destroyer of my happiness ! Is it
because I have loved you that you can trample
me in the dust? — is it because you ought to be
my protector that you have become my perse-
cutor ? Oh, for God's sake, Frederick- by all
your hopes of prosperity in this world and of
happiness hereafter — do me that act of justice
which I entreat at your hands!"

Though Lord Frederick's back was still turned
towards me, yet could I now perceive by his ges-
tures and movements that he was much embar-
rassed and agitated, even if not touched in a right
sense. Juliet had taken his hand in both hei'
own; and she was holding it tightly. My pre-
sence at the farther extremity of the room ap-
peared to be completely forgotten by both.
" Eise, Juliet," he said ; " and listen to me."
She obeyed him in silence : she stood before him
with the air of one expecting her doom to be pro-
nounced, with a horrible consciousness of what
that doom would be, and yet not daring to anticU
pate it by another syllable iroiu her own lips.

140

ELLEN PBKCT; OE, THS MEMOIES OV AN ACTEES3.

"Listen to me," he continued— and his voice
was hoarse as well as tremulous with agitation.
" I see that you know everything — and it is there-
fore useless for me to deny what I have done, I

swear to you, Juliet, that I loved you "

' " Loved me ?" she said, in shuddering accents of
inquiry.

"Well then," be continued, "I still love
you "

" Oh, if you still love me "

"Pray listen to me ! — I beseech you to listen!"

'•' I will, I will," said Juliet nervously. " Pro-
ceed."

" I still love you," continued Eavenscliffe : " but
my position is such that I cannot "

"Enough, my lord!" said Juliet, in a cold
freezing voice. " I now comprehend my doom."

" But do listen to me !" exclaimed Lord Fre-
derick, almost petulantly. '• I know very well
that my safety is in your hands and in those of
your parents — and that you can punish me for
what I have done. But this will not advance your
interests. You will ruin me, and at the same time
ruin yourself. I am willing to do all that I can
or may to repair the injury which in my madness

and infatuation I have inflicted 1 will settle

upon you a handsome income ■ I will "

" Talk not to me, my lord," interrupted Juliet,
with a cold indignation which at the same time
had something dignified as well as sccrnful in it, —
" talk not to me as if you were addressing one of
those depraved and degraded creatures who can be
purchased at a price or whose wounded feelings
can be healed by gold ! I ask you to render me
honourable in the sight of the world ; and if you
refuse this act of justice, I will accept nothing
from you as a boon. I now know my fate ; and
my mind is made up what course to pursue. Even
if I were vindictive I should prefer the safety of
my reputation to the wreaking of vengeance. Be-
sides, for such a crime as that which you have
committed, the chastisement it deserves is too
great to be dealt out by human law : it must be
left to the dispensation of heaven ! Go, my lord !
—you are safe from injury at my hands! But,
Oh ! return not into the great world to boast
that the too confiding girl has become your victim
—or that the despised ballet-dancer has been the
transient toy of your pleasures. Leave me the
chance, my lord, of veiling my shame from the
public knowledge; so that when I go back to earn
my bread upon that stage from which for a time
I was snatched away to be cradled in a brilliant
and blissful delusion, I may not have to blush
when looking others in the face. And, Oh 1 con-
sider my parents, my lord ! They will presently
have a tremendous weight of affliction to bear up
against :— aggravate it not by the betrayal of the
fearful secret to the world !"

It was with an indescribable pathos, in the most
touching tones, and with the most feeling accents
that Juliet bad thus spoken. The tears were
raining down my cheeks ; my bosom was convulsed
with sobs ; I could scarcely restrain myself from
rushing forward, throwing myself at Bsvenscliffe's
feet, and imploring him to have mercy upon one
who was so forbearing towards him and who thus
displayed the noblest sentiments and the loftiest
feelings.

" But why, Juliet," he said, " should we sepa-

rate ? Let me give you a house of your own —
surround you with every luxury and comfort?
I would visit you frequently — nobody need
know "

'•' Ah, my lord !" she indignantly exclaimed,
"you would have me become your pensioned mis-
tress ? Dare to address ma again in such terms,
and all my good resolutions towards you will
vanish as if they had never been ! Add not insult
the most intolerable to cruelty the most horrible !
Oh, it is the deepest of the humiliations into which
your wickedness has plunged me, for you to tes-
tify that because I am dishonoured you deem that
I can become profligate I Ali, my lord ! it was
doubtless a fine thing for you, a brilliant young
nobleman, to ensnare the humble ballet-dancer ! —
and perhaps you think that when placing a crown
of thorns upon her head, you placed a diadem of
glorious triumph on your own ! Oh, be proud of
this conquest I — it requires but tluit to be the con-
summation of all your iniquity ! xS^ow therefore
I will use threats "

" Por heaven's sake, speak not thus passion*
ately !" exclaimed the young nobleman, trembling

with alarm. " You will be overheard Ah !

Miss Percy is here !"

"Yes— I am here, my lord," I said, now ad-
vancing from the extremity of the room; ''and
after this scene I shall have a poorer opinion than
ever of human nature. That you could have re-
sisted the appeals of her whom you have so cruelly
wronged "

"Enough, Ellen!" interrupted Juliet vehe-
mently : " he is inaccessible to prayers ! I will
use threats. This, then, my lord, is my determi-
nation: — keep my secret as you value your own
safety! Let but the slightest whisper reach my
ears that you have betrayed me— let but the
faintest murmur be wafted to me that you have
made a boast of the wreck and ruin you have
achieved — and that instant the vengeance of the
law shall be invoked against you! These are the
terms that I offer; and it is for you to decide
whether you accept them."

" Why all this passion, Juliet ? why address me
in this language ?'' asked Ljrd Frederick. " I
tell you that I am ready to do anything which you
suggest, and which I can or »wy perform. The
secret has been hitherto kept ; and it sJiaU be
kept ! But let us part friends "

"Friends?" echoed Juliet wildly: and then
with a half-stifled shriek she flung herself upon a
chair, covered her countenance with her hands,
and burst into a paroxysm of uncontrollable
anguish.

Lord Frederick was about to approach her,
when I laid my hand upon his ftm, saying in a
low voice, " I insist, my lord, that you leave the
room !"

For an instant the young nobleman flung upon
me a look of malignant defiance : but the next
moment assuming a submissive air, he said, " Yes,
yes, iliss Percy— I will be guided by you!"

'•■ Go then," I said : and while he retreated, I
threw my arms around Juliet's neck, pressing her
to my bosom.

For a few minutes she continued to weep with
a bitterness that had never before characterized
weeping in my presence, and to sob with a con-
vulsiveness that seemed to threaten her with dis-

solution. But after a while sbe desisted; and [ ceeding; and therefore it was my intention to wait
wiping away her tears, she nerved herself with all [ a few minules until they themselves should risa
the fortitude she could possibly summon to her aid. i to take their temporary leave of Mr. Eichards.

"The crisis is over, dear Ellen," she said, in The manager— in his French cap and flowered
accents which though subdued, were nevertheless silk dressing-gown — was seated at his desk, upon
firm and collected. " I feel like the doomed one | which, as usual, there were decanters and bottlca
who having bidden a last farewell to those from I of wine. Indeed I do not recollect that I ever
whom it was anguish to tear himself away, could [ entered Mr. Eichards' private room, no matter at
declare that the bitterness of death had then what hour of the day, without seeing wine placed
passed ! Yes— I accept my destiny : I must live before him. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were par-
for the sake of that unborn child which asked not j taking of some slight refreshment after the re-
to bo called into being ! You shall now see, ^ hearsal ; and Mr. Richards was giving some in-

EUen, how firm and courageous I can become,
and with what strength of mind I can pass
through all the rest of the ordeal that is yet to be
accomplished. But I have now a favour to be-
seech at your bands "

" Anything— every thing, dearest, dearest Julie 1"
I exclaimed, again folding her in my embrace.
" Tell me what I can do for you "

" Hasten to the theatre," responded Juliet, " and
see my father and mother. Tell them everything.
But, Oh ! break it gently ; and it will bo better
that they should there \eava the terrific intelli-
gence, than that the tidings should await them

when they come back to the house. By the step j and a Walking Gentleman," continued
I ask you to take, the first ebullition of their llichards

Btruetions to Mr. Grreen, the stage-manager.

Having received me with his wonted half-
cordial, half-respectful salutation, Mr. Richards
continued speaking to his stage. manager.

"Well then, Mr. Green," he said, "so far, so
good : the new piece will be a tremendous hit.
But by the bye, we shall want a fresh Heavy
Man "

" Very good, sir," responded the stage-manager :
"there is Judkins — I mean Arlington, as he now
calls himself— who is just come back from circuit
in Lancashire."

" We shall also require a First Low Comedian

Mr.

anguish will have passed ere their return home
otherwise they would betray everything by their
ejaculations of despair, to the servants of this
household. Tell them — tell them that which
they know not yet : tell them that I am in a way
to become a mother — and that for the sake of my
honour, my character, my repute, everything must
be hushed up! Will you do this, dear Ellen ?"

"I will, Juliet— I will," was the answer given
amidst the deep affliction which rent my soul. " I
will speed at once ! But you "

"In the meantime, Ellen," answered Juliet,
" I shall be nerving myself yet more strongly than
I am even now fortified, to meet my sad, sad des-
tiny. Tell my parents that I conjure them by all
the love they bear me — for their' own sake and for
mine — to support this terrible misfortune with a

" I will make inquiries, sir, and let you know
this evening."

" Very good," continued the lessee. " Ah ! and
we shall want a Singing Chambermaid too. What
about her ?"

" There is Miss Tripps, sir," replied Green :
" she has been at the Standard and Garrick— but
I think if she came out here, with a new name —
of course a good one— Miss Harcourt, for in-
stance "

" Well, see her. Green — and make terms with
her," interjected Mr. Eichards. "And then what
about a couple of extra Gentlemen for Utility ?"

" Easy to be found, sir," responded Green.
"If you will please to leave it to me "

" Well, be it so : and now don't let the grass
grow under your feet. Take a glass of wine.

becoming courage ; so that the suspicions of the 1 Green— and a biscuit. Miss Trafford, a glass of

world may not be excited. And now go, Ellen !"

I accordingly left my poor friend ; and having
hastily put on my bonnet and mantle, I entered
the cab which in the meanwhile had been sent for.
Most distressing was the task which I had to per-
form ; and I composed my feelings as well as I
possibly could in order to accomplish that task in
precise accordance with Juliet's instructions. I
arrived at the theatre, to which Mr. and Mrs.
Korman had repaired for the purpose of rehearsal ;
and on reaching the stage from the private en

wine ? No ! It is really always no with you !
Another glass. Green ? You had rather not ?

Well, go to the 1 mean go and see about

these matters we have been talking of."

At this moment one of the theatrical under-
lings entered the lessee's room, bearing a letter,
which he presented to Mr. Eichards.

"There!" exclaimed the lessee, with a look and
voice of vexation when he had perused the letter.
" This is from the Lord Chamberlain, to intimate
that Prince Albert will visit the theatre 'on Mon-

trance, I learnt that those whom I had come to | day evening next. Ah ! the public fancy it is a

see were with Mr. Richards, in his own private
room. I knew that my countenance expressed a
profound sadness ; and I exerted every eft'ort to

assume a collected look for a cheerful one was

impossible ! Fortunately it was a dark December

very fine thing for us lessees, when Royalty ho-
nours our houses : but it is just the reverse ! The
last time I received not a single farthing from the
Eoyal hands ! Yuu may be incredulous, Mr. Nor-
man; but upon my honour it is a fact. However,

day : it was now verging towards three o'clock in | wo must submit to these inflictions," added the
the afternoon ; and the manager's room was half j lessee., with a sigh of resignation ; " and there's
involved in obscurity. Thus, whatsoever my looks | an end of it.— Did you wish to speak to me. Miss
would have otherwise betrayed, was not noticed as Trafl'oru ?" he amiably asked.
I entered. I had not chosen to send and fetch "No," I answered. "Being in the neighbour-
Mr. and Mrs. Norman from that room, for fear hood"— and I hesitated what excuse to make—" I
they should at onje have suspected there was thought I would avail myself of Mr. Norman'a
something wrong on account of so unusual a pro- | carriage to return homo "

'• We are ready, my dear girl," said Mrs. Nor-
man : aud we accordingly took our leave of the
lessee.

But on issuing forth from bis room, I intimated
to Mr. and Mrs. liorman I wished to speak to
them in private before we took our seats in the
carriage ; and we therefore proceeded to Mrs.
Norman's dressing-chamber. Then I began to
break the fearful intelligence as delicately as I
could to Mr. aud Mrs. Xorman ; and entreating
them to control their feelings as well as they were
able, I divulged the fatal truth that Juliet was
not a wife ! Mrs. ZSTorman fainted : her husband
sat down, gazing upon me with a look of blank
dismay and vacant consternation, I hastened to
administer restoratives to the unfortunate mother
of tho dishonoured Juliet ; aud as she slowly came
back to consciousness, Mr. Norman sank upon his
knees, clasped his hands, and implored heaven to
forgive him for having been instrumental in ac-
complishing his daughter's ruin I represented
to him that he need not blame himself, for that he
had acted for the best in giving his assent to what
at the time he had believed to be a holy and
legitimate ceremony : but it was a long while be-
fore he would desist from his bitter self-upbraidings.
His poor wife wrung her hands, wept passionately,
and seemed to be beyond the reach of consolation.
Fortunately however their affliction burst not
forth in a manner which could be overheard out-
side the door of tho dressing-room : and thus I
felt assured that the secret might still be kept, in
accordance with Juliet's wishes.

I will not linger upon this painful scene. In-
deed, if I were to protract it, it would only be to
swell the present episode of my narrative with de-
scriptions of rending grief and almost heart-break-
ing woe. Suffice it to say that the Normans now
comprehended the cause of my absence for the two
preceding days, and that I had been to Embledon
instead of on a visit to Lady Lilla Essendine. For-
tunately for my own concerns, it was not necessary
to tell them any more relative to Mr. Croft than I
had already told to Juliet ; and they themselves,
when enabled to reason and reflect deliberately,
gave their assent to Juliet's policy that the whole
hideous transaction should be hushed up as much
as possible

When we returned to Hunter Street, the meet-
ing between the parents and their dishonoured
child was painful and affecting to a degree ; but
no loud lamentations betrayed the secret to the
domestics of the household. Still did it soon be-
come apparent to those servants that something
had taken place; for despite the efforts of the
Normans'and of myself to assume a calm com-
posure outwardly, there was a damp thrown upon
our spirits which it was impossible to help betray-
ing. Indeed, for poor Mr. and Mrs. Norman the
blow was well nigh as terrific as for Juliet herself.
They had naturally taken such a pride in their
own respectability as well as in the knowledge
that their daughter's reputation was untarnished
— they had looked forward, with fond parental
ambition, t<o some eligible and perhaps even bril-
liant alliance that the handsome Juliet might form
—they had for awhile indulged in the dream that
Buch an aim was already accomplished, and that
in a few short months she would be proclaimed to
tho world as Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe. Ter-

rible was therefore tho blow which they had sus-
tained alike in their pride and in their feelinga, ia
their hopes and their aspirations ; and the bitter-
ness of the calamity was experienced keenly,
keenly by them.

As Lord Frederick's visits to the house now
suddenly ceased, and as it had been all along be-
lieved by the servants that he was paying his ad-
dresses to Miss Norman, and hence her retirement
from the stage, — the conclusion to which they
came was that the contemplated match was broken
off. Thus they could not be a stonished to ob-
serve that a damp had fallen upon the spirits of
the family, and that a certain gloom prevailed
where gaiety and cheerfulness had reigned before.

A couple of months passed ; and during this in-
terval I received two letters from my father, who
had settled himself at the town of St. Omer in the
north of France— a place but little frequented by
English visitors, and where he consequently hoped
to dwell unrecognised, as he was certain to be un-
molested. I likewise received letters from my
cousin Harry, giving the most favourable account
of the progress of the business for which he had
been sent to New York : but still he was unable
to fix the time of his return. In answering him,
I began to take the first step towards the avowal
of the profession I had embraced : I intimated that
I had been on a few occasions to the theatre, and
that from all I had seen and learnt I could not
help thinking that the prejudice which existed
against actors and actresses generally was a most
iinjust one.

During these two mo-aths I saw nothing at all
of St. Clair — nothing more of the Marquis of DaU
rymple than occasionally in his box at the theatre
— and very little of Lady Lilla Essendine. She
called three or four times to invite me to renew
my visits to her : but though I treated her in a
manner as if no suspicion to her disparagement
lurked in my mind, yet I invariably pleaded tho
pressure of my theatrical engagements as a reason
for declining her' invitations.

It was now the beginning of February, 1841 j
and five months had elapsed since the mock mar-
riage which had proved so fatal to Juliet's happi-^
ness. The first fulness of grief on the part of her
parents had mellowed down into resignation ; and
her osvn mind had fortified itself with all the
energy that naturally belonged to it. It was about
this time that a fashionable morning paper an-
nounced in a paragraph, " the approaching mar-
riage of Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe with the
beautiful and accomplished Lady Cecilia Urban,
the rich heiress to the splendid estates left by her
deceased father Lord Eythorne." I may hero
observe that Lady Cecilia was an orphan, — her
mother having died in her infancy, and her father
a few years previous to the date of which I am
writing.

When this paragraph was read one morning at
the breakfast. table— (and Juliet, I should state,
was the first to notice it) — Mr. and Mrs. Norman
at once showed by their looks that they would like
to prevent the match. Juliet remained for some
time silent, after having directed our attention to
the paragraph ; and I saw by the rigidity of her
features that her thoughts were powerfully at
work.

"This must not be!" she suddenly exclaimed

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBMMES OF AN ACTEES3.

143

fltavtin^ up fiora lier seat. " Though perhaps the |
law would not recognise me, jet morally and in I
the sight of heaven am I his wife !" !

'•' If o— it shall not take place ?" said Mr. Nor- ;
man, resolutely. " God knows I am not vindic-
tive, but it is impossible to remain silent and
suffer a young, wealthy, beautiful, and perhaps
confiding creature to be sacrificed to a man of
whom I might speak in the harshest terms !"

"Lady Cecilia Urban is, I hare heard, an
orphan," said Mrs. Norman ; " and it would be
cruel on our part to suffer her to be thus sacri-
ficed."

" But remember," I said, thinking it was now
my turn to speak, " that the terms which you,
Juliet, dictated to Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe,
were complete forbearance on both sides. If you
proclaim war against Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe,
he will no longer respect the secret which we have
all been so anxious to maintain."

Juliet sat down, and hung her head in despon-
dency. Mrs. Norman passed her kerchief across
her eyes : Mr. Norman reflected sadly and deeply.
At length he said, " It is true that our first consi-
deration is the maintenance of a secret which so
closely regards our own feelings : but the next
consideration is to save a confiding young lady
from sacrificing herself to one who assuredly will
not render her happiness his study. It is a sub-
ject that requires the most delicate and serious re-
flection."

Nothing more was said on the topic for that or
the following day : but the morning of the day
next ensuing brought me a letter from my father.
He therein stated that he had just learnt the in-
telligence that Lord Frederick KavenscliiTe was to
marry Lady Cecilia Urban, but that he was re-
solved to prevent the alliance. For this reason he
had made up his mind at all risks to return to
London ; and he bade me meet him in St. James's
Park, at four o'clock on the day following the one
on which the letter thus reached me.

I was still in my own chamber when the epistle
was brought to me by the lady's-maid ; and it was
fortunate that it reached me there — for if it had
been at the breakfast-table my emotions would
have betrayed themselves. I was frightened and
afllicted at this resolve which my father had taken ;
although on the other hand there was a reason for
the entertainment of satisfaction, inasmuch as it
proved that he himself was sincerely contrite, and
that he deemed it his duty to punish the indivi-
dual in whose perfidious schemes he had become
perforce inveigled. I determined to remain pro-
foundly secret in respect to the contents of his
letter ; and I composed my features before joining
the family at the breakfast-table. The subject of
the intended marriage of Lord Frederick and Lady
Cecilia was not again alluHed to ; and an equal
silence was maintained on the following day with
regard to it. Mr. and Mrs. Norman, as well as
Juliet, evidently thought that the secret which
they so much desired to preserve, could not pos-
sibly remain safe if they were to proclaim warfare
against Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE PAEK.

It was close upon four o'clock in the afternoon of
the appointe I day, when I entered St. James's
Park. It being the early part of the month of
February, the dusk was already beginning to close
in— the weather was raw and misty — and though
well wrapped up in a thick shawl and with good
furs, I nevertheless shuddered with the chill.

Just as I entered the iron gate of the enclosure,
a gentleman who was passing me rapidly, seemed
to start and even to stop short for a moment, as
if he recognised mo despite the dark veil which I
wore. But who he was I knew not : for the collar
of his paletot was put up, so that it completely
concealed all the lower part of his countenance,
while his hat shaded the upper part. Indeed he
passed so rapidly on again that I fancied I must
have been mistaken in supposing he had recog-
nised me.

I soon thought no more of the circumstance, as
I sped towards the spot where I was to meet my
father. This was at the back of the ornamental
water, on the side of the Park which is bounded
by the Birdcage Walk. I only met two or threo
stragglers during my walk from the gate to tho
place of appointment; and thus I was relieved of
much apprehension on finding how deserted was
the scene where the interview was to take place.

My father was there in readiness, waiting to re-
ceive me. He wore a thick over-coat, and had a
shawl kerchief concealing all the lower part of his
face : so that recognition of him was by no means
easy. He folded me in his arms, and hastened to
say, " Chide me not, dear Ellen, for thus daring
danger by coming to England : but ^ I felt that I
had a duty to perform."

"And yet you know, my dear father," I an-
swered, " from all I have told you in my letters
that the Normans are most anxious to keep the
secret "

"And naturally so," interrupted Mr. Croft.
" Bat what if it be not betrayed by theyti 7 — what
excuse in that case would the villain Ravensclifib
have in making a boast of his treatment of your
friend Juliet ? Besides, does not the threat of
invoking the vengeance (jf the law against him
always hold good? No, no! — believe me, Ellen,
he for his own sake will keep the secret. Even
amongst his own set such black treachery as that
of which he was guilty is but a sorry subject for
idle bravado. And then there is another reason.
It is true that the gown of a clergyman was taken
from my Back when the law smote me as a felon s
but how can he prove it ? There is no record of
such a transaction ; and if he came to deal with
the law, he might find it more difficult than he
anticipates to prove that he is not legally and in-
dissolubly united to your friend Juliet."

"I acknowledge, father, tho weight of all these
reasonings," I said : " but what course would you
adopt ?"

"I myself, Ellen," he answered, "shall call
upon Lady Cecilia Urban and tell her every-
thing. Yes — I am resolved to do so; and rest
assured that my tale will effectually bar this con-
templated alliance. I have with mo the proof

144

EtLEN PESC; OEj THE MEM0IE3 OP AIT ACTEESS.

of Lord Frederick's villany — the letter which he
wrote to me at Embledon, begging and imploring
that I would send him a certificate iu order to
quiet Juliet's importunities."

" And what if jou met Lord Frederick at Lady
Cecilia's house ?" I asked, trembling with appre-
hension.

"Oh! my dear child," responded my father, "I
have been too much accustomed to dangers and
difficulties in the world not to proceed cautiously.
I will in the first instance make inquiries, and
ascertain whether Lord Frederick be at her lady,
ship's house or not. In a word, trust to me,
dear Ellen — and tranquillize these alarms."

We had proceeded slowly together along the
gravel walk while thus conversing — I leaning on
my father's arm. We now sat down on a bench,
behind which there was a mass of evergreens.

" I mean to permit myself the indulgence of
your society, dear Ellen," said my father, " for a
few minutes longer : for I shall not again see you
ere I leave England. I shall write to you the
issue of my interview with her ladyship; so that
you may make to your friends whatsoever com-
munication you shall think fit."

"Oh, my dear father!" I said, "for heaven's
sake be upon your guard ! I am full of appre-
hensions for your safety "

" Let me endeavour to tranquillize them," re-
plied my father. "There are only five persons in
all England who are acquainted with the fact that
I am the escaped felon, Charles Percy, now pass-
ing under the name of Croft."

"Hush! for God's sakejiush!" 1 murmured,
full of terror. " Why breathe these words "

" Because, my dear child," responded my father,
"I can never too often remind myself of what I
have become. But in respect to these five per-
sons, there are the lawyer and his wife — and they
would not betray me : there are the Earl and his
son— the former I need not dread; the latter,
even if I encountered him, would scarcely dare
to play a hostile part, for he knows not that con-
siderations on account of your friends would
bind me to secrecy. Lastly, there is your-
self "

"No— there is another!" exclaimed a voice,
which I at once recognised: and at the same in-
stant the individual sprang forth from amidst the
evergreens.

A low half-stifled shriek burst from my lips ;
for it was Edwin St. Clair who thus made his
appearance. He immediately seized my father by
the collar, saying, " Dare not attempt to fly ! dare
not attempt to use violence! — or I will shout for
succour ! Be tranquil — and you may yet go hence
in security !"

Ob, that evil genius, St. Clair ! In a moment
I comprehended it all. He was mufiled in a pale-
tot : it was he who had recognised me at the gate;
and he had evidently dogged me in a cautious
manner and with stealthy steps. "^Ij father was
for a moment transfixed to the spot with conster-
nation— while I threw my arms in wild agony
around him. But those last words from St. Clair's
lips elicited from my father the quickly uttered
question, "What terms have you to dictate ? and
who are you ?"

"Your daughter knows who I am," hastily re-
sponded St. Clair ; " and she can be at no loss to

conjecture the terms to which I allude. I have
heard enough to tell me who i/ou are, and to know
that you are completely in my power. An escaped
felon cannot possibly have much compunction in
surrendering up to me his daughter as my mistress
— especially as I can give him wealth, in the same
way that I will surround that daughter herself
with riches."

"Villain!" exclaimed my father, endeavouring
to shake him off: "unhand me, or I will strike
you down ! Call for succour if you will — give me
into custody: but imagine not for a moment that
I will yield to your threats or your tempta-
tions !"

Unable to speak, I was still clinging to my
father, — all my ideas in horrible confusion, save
and except for the comprehension of what was
passing between himself and St. Clair. At that
desperate but vain effort which he made to shake
St. Clair off, I clung all the more tightly to him ;
and then, my tongue being loosened, I exclaimed,
"For heaven's sake provoke him not, father! O
God ! I knew what it would be ! my apprehen-
sions were all but too well grounded ! and this is
the frightful result !"

" Console yourself, my dear child," responded
my father, in a voice tremulous with emotion.
" Unhand me, sir ! I swear that I will not at-
tempt to flee away : but I beseech you to be mer-
ciful to me for the sake of my daughter !"

" Yes — I unhand you," answered St. Clair,
" because at the very first evidence which you
give of an attempt to escape, I shall precipitate
myself upon you and raise an alarm. Listen, sir !
I first wooed your daughter honourably— and she
rejected my proposal. I do not hesitate to admit
that I subsequently spread snares to entrap her— •
and she escaped from them all. She has baffled
me — she has humiliated me : I have love and re-
venge to gratify at the same time !"

" Enough, sir !" exclaimed my father. " I see
that jou are a villain ; and I would sooner perish
on the scaffold than place my own child in your
power. Now do your worst ! But stay !— let me
bid farewell "

"EUen!" ejaculated St. Clair, "will you see
your own father dragged hence as a felon, with
chains upon his hands? — will you behold him
placed in the dock.f — will you yourself have it
I>rociaimed to the world that the brilliant Miss
Trafford is the daughter of an escaped convict ?"

" No, no !" I exclaimed : " I would die sooner
than one tittle of all this should happen ! Ob,
Captain St. Clair "

" Appeal not to me, Ellen !" he interrupted me
in a pitiless voice : " I am inexorable I Decide 1"
— and he again laid his hand upon my father's
coat. ". Am I to raise my voice ? am I to send
forth the cry which shall bring hither those who
will drag your parent away to gaol ?"

" No !" I ejaculate:!, a sudden recollection
striking me, and which was previously lost in the
anguish of my mind and the confusion of my
thoughts. " Beware, villain, what your own
fate may be!" — and then I added with as
much terrible significancy as I could possibly fancy
niiglit attach itself to the words, " He who smells
the white rose, sleeps the sleep of death !"

The reader will remember how sudden, how ap-
palling, and how overwhelming was tlio effect pro*

EtLEN PEKCT; OE, THE ME3IOIU3 OP AN ACTKESS.

145

duced upon St. Clair at Colonel Bellew'a house
when I prescuted the flower, asking him if he
knew the sjmbol. But that effect was almost as
nothing in comparison with that which these fresh
talistnanic words instantaneously produced. With
a hollow groan St. Clair loosened his hold upon my
father : he staggered back — he pressed his hands
to his brow — and in a voice of indescribable an-
guish, he said, "For Grod's sake, betray me not ! —
forgive me !"

There was just sufficient light remaining to show
the ghastly expression of St. Clair's countenance :
for his hat had fallen off as he staggered back.
My father g;ive utterance to an ejaculation of
astonishment ; but I myself — -overjoyed yet terri-
fied at the effect the talismanic words produced —
hastened to avail myself of the triumph.

"You per<;eive," I said, "that the secrets of
your own conscience are known to me. Depart
hence — and beware how you breathe one single
No. 19.— EujEN PEECr.

syllable injurious to my father in any quarter !— •
for if you disregard this warning, I shall repeat
elsewhere the words I have just uttered."

Again St. Clair moaned most piteously, and
with every evidence of a soul-crushing anguish, as
he rose from his kneeling posture.

" May I rely upon you, Miss Percy ?" he asked,
in a deep hollow voice ; " and I swear that your
father's secret is safe with me ! Nay, more— I
swear likewise that henceforth you yourself ■"

" Enough of these pledges, sir !" I interrupted
him : for I saw that he fancied himself to be in-
finitely more in my power than he really was.
'• You see that I am fully able to defend both my
father and myself ! And now leave us 1 — leave us !"
I added, peremptorily, perceivicg that he still lin»
gered, evidently with the desire of saying some*
thing more.

My words galvanized him into sudden alacrity i
he picked up his hat, and fled from the spot.

149

IlLEN PEECV; OE, THE JIEMOIES OF AX ACT2ES3.

When his form was lost in the surrounding ob-
Bcurity, I threw ray arms around my father's neck,
exclaiming in wild joy, "You are safe! you are
Bafe !"

" Yes— saved by thee, my child !" he fervidly
responded, as ho strained me to hia breast. " But
what meant those strange words which produced
a still stranger effect "

" Question me not now, father I" I interrupted
him : " but for heaven's sake, speed away from
Loudon as quickly as you can !"

" I ought to obey you altogether, Ellen, after
what has occurred," he said : " but am I not to
fulfil this duty in respect to Lady Cecilia Urban ?"

" No, no, father !" I vehemently ejaculated.
•' Perish all other considerations beyond your
safety ! Ob, the thought of what might have
happened to you is horrible, horrible! Fly,
father! — [ conjure you to fly! It is your own
loving daughter who thus earnestly entreats
you!"

"And you shall be obeyed, my child!" he an-
swered. " Not for worlds would I do aught that
might tend to afflict your generous, your affec-
tionate heart! But I on my side have something
to entreat. Let not this marriage be accom-
plished—promise me that you yourself will de-
vise some means "

"I will, I will, .father!" I exclaimed, full of a
feverish terror lest any fresh danger should sud-
denly start up to menace my parent. " Ob, I
faithfully promise ! Rest assured that the mar-
riage shall cot take place ! And now fly !"

My father strained me in his embrace ; and he
then hastened away, — while I sank upon the
bench, exhausted by the variety of feelings that
had experienced so strong a tension.

When I was able to collect my scattered ideas
and to deliberate on everything that had taken
place, gratitude towards Zarah was amidst the
dominant feelings which inspired me. To that
gipsy was I indebted for the mysterious words
which saved my father from an infamous punish-
ment, and myself from the disgrace that would
have redounded upon my head. And then I be-
gan to consider how much St. Clair could have
possibly overheard of the conversation betwixt my
father and myself. I knew that his ear could have
caught nothing while we were walking together ;
for there were no evergreens nigh amidst which he
could have concealed himself. It was therefore
■with a deep relief and satisfaction that I recalled
to mind as much as he could have overheard while
we were seated on the bench. I remembered that
this part of our discourse was confined to the cir-
cumstances that regarded my father only; and
therefore St. Clair had learnt nothing of Juliet's
secret, nor of my father's object in visiting London
—namely, the frustration of Lord Frederick's
hoped-for alliance with Lady Cecilia Urban.

Issuing from the Park, I entered a cab, and was
soon conveyed to Hunter Street. During the
drive thither I continued to reflect upon the inci-
dents which had taken place; and I marvelled
what the dread import of those words could be —
those cabalistic words, as Zarah had described them
— which produced so appalling, so frightful, so
terrific an effect upon Edwin St. Clair. Yet I
shuddered at the idea that there must be some
stupendous sense of guilt in St. Clair's conscience,

that he could thus have been brought on his knees
at my feet and forced to beseech that I wouU not
betray hira. It was indeed an astound. ng mysterv
to me; but again and again did my soul throb
with gratitude towards the gipsy Zarah for the
immensity of the service she had been instru-
mental in rendering me.

I had made a solemn promise to my father
which I did not however see in what manner I
was to keep. This was to prevent the contem-
plated alliance between Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliffe and Lady Cecilia Urban. The reader ia
already aware of the stringent motives which ren-
dered it necessary that the utmost caution should
be observed in dealing with Lord Frederick, for
poor Juliet's reputation was in his haaHg. Still
there was the pledge to my father ; and still there
was my own fixed desire, apart fcom all other con-
siderations, to frustrate the views of a young
nobleman who had behaved so infamously towards
my friend. Not that I had any personal regard
for Lady Cecilia : the little I had seen of her on
the night of the private theatricals at Ardleigh
House prepossessed me not in her favour— while
all that I had since heard of her from the lips of
the Marquis of Dalrymple had still further tended
to depreciate her in my opinion. Nevertheless,
for the other reasons above set forth, I considered
myself bouud to save oven that haughty beauty
; from sacrificing herself to the unprincipled son of
the Earl of Carshalton.

I lay awake for several hours during the night,
pondering the means of accomplishing my object
without suffering Lord Frederick to become aware
that the hostility to his own views emanated from
beneath the roof of Mr. Norman's house. But at
length sleep stole upon my eyes before I had fixed
upon any one of the twenty projects which sug-
gested themselves to my imagination. When I
awoke in the morning I resumeckmy reflections
upon the same subject; and I could think of
nothing better than the plan of calling upon Lady
Cecilia, and binding her to the m'ost solemn xovr
of secrecy in respect to the authorship of the in-
formation I had to give her. Having made up
my mind to the adoption of this course, I resolved
to set off early, so that I might reach her lady-
ship's house at an hour when Lord Frederick
Rivenscliffo was by no means likely to call there.
Lady Cecilia lived with an elderly aunt at the
West End of the town ; and immediately after
breakfast, I went forth under the pretence of
having some purchases to make in Eegent Street.

It was about half-past ten o'clock in the fore-
noon that as I was crossing the very street I have
just named, in order to reach G-rosvenor Square,
I suddenly encountered the young Marquis of
Dalrymple. As I have recently said, I had only
occasionally seen his lordship in his box at the
theatre for upwards of two months ; and this was
the first time we had met since the day of expla-
nations in Hunter Street. A melancholy smile
appeared upon his countenance when he behold
me ; and proffering his hand, he said, " You know.
Miss Percy, that we were to continue friends."

" Most assuredly," I answered, with a frank
cordiality, as I gave him my hand.

" And if it were possible that in any way," he
continued to observe with rapidity of utterance,
" I could testify the warmth and sincerity of my

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTBES8.

147

friendship towards you, you ehould command me
—and you know not with what joy I would
render you any eeivice that it lay in my power to
perform !"

" Accept my gratitude, my lord," I answered :

"but there is nothing And yet there might

be !" I ejaculated, thus suddenly interrupting my-
eelf as a thought flashed to my mind.

" Tell me what it is !" exclaimed the generous
young nobleman eagerly. " I see there is some-
thing which I possibly might do "

" You yourself have repeated, my lord," I an-
swered, " what I myself said some time back — that
we are to be friends ! Now, I am going to give
you a proof of my friendship by confiding to you
a secret ; and you can give me a proof of yours
by acting in pursuance of that revelation."

" Command me to any extent !" replied Dal-
ryraple, evidently overjoyed at the prospect of
rendering his services available to me.

" Lord Frederick Ravenaclifife," I continued,
" is about to marry— or at least he hopes he is
about to marry Lady Cecilia Urban. But I
hinted to you the last time we met" — and I spoke
rapidly as I alluded to that meeting — " that he
had conducted himself in a dishonourable manner
towards some one of my acquaintance. Who that
injured one is, I shall not name, nor must you seek
to know. Suffice it to say that many reasons ren-
der it expedient to frustrate Lord Frederick's de-
sign of possessing himself of the wealth of the
rich heiress Lady Cecilia,"

"And how would you accomplish your purpose?
how would you for your friend's sake interfere to
prevent the contemplated alliance ? Tell me," ex-
claimed Dalrymple, " in what manner I can serve

you for you must doubtless have some settled

plan in your mind"

"You must understand, my lord," I continued,
"that for certain reasons it is necessary Lord
Frederick Eavenscliflfe should remain ignorant of
the source whence the blow is struck at his inten-
tions "

" Indeed !" said Dalrymple : " then the matter
is difficult to manage. I know you too well to
believe that you would condescend to an anony-
mous letter."

" That plan I for a moment thought of, and the
next instant rejected," was my answer. " But
cannot you, my lord "

" Ah !" he exclaimed, " there is certainly a plan
—a means by which the whole affair could be con-
ducted so as to produce an extraordinary effect
upon Lady Cecilia, and at the same time to fulfil
your aim of complete secrecy in respect to the
source whence the warning emanates."

" And those means ?" I asked.

"To-morrow night," proceeded the Marquis of
Dalrymple, " there is a grand masked ball at Ard-
leigh House. Lady Cecilia Urban will be there ;
and I cannot have any difficulty in discovering her,
no matter how admirable may be the disguise of
her costume. If your injured friend thinks fit to
be present, I will furnish you with a card of ad-
mission ; and in the guise of a gipsy she would
find an opportunity of saying whatsoever she may
think fit to Lady Cecilia."

I reflected for a few moments j and then I said,
" Thank you, my lord, for your kindness : I ac-
cept the proposition,"

"Then the card shall be sent," replied Dal-
rymple. "To- morrow evening, 30 soon as I shall
hava ascertained in what garb Lady Cecilia has
made her appearance, I will whisper the secret in
the ear of your gipsy friend. But how shall I
know her? — for in such a crowded assemblage
there may be a dozen who will wear a gipsy
costume."

" The gipsy," I answered, " whom you will wish
to recognise, shall carry in her hand an artificial
white rose :" — for the association of that flower
with the name of gipsy was strong in my mind at
the moment on account of the adventure with St.
Clair on tho preceding evening.

" Be it 80," responded the Marquis : " I shall
not fail to fulfil my part of the enterprise. But I
have yet a few things to say. It is arranged by
my mother that as the clock strikes one there is
to be a general unmasking "

" I understand, my lord," I interrupted him.
" Before that hour my friend in the gipsy costume
shall take her departure ; so that the countenance
of no uninvited stranger will be revealed."

"At nine o'clock to-morrow evening," pro-
ceeded the young nobleman, " the guests will
begin to assemble. On entering the great hall,
your friend will have to hand her card to the porter,
who will merely satisfy himself that it is ono that
has been issued : for the cards have numbers upon
them, but no names. Your friend will pass on
without molestation. It will be by looking at
my mother's list and ascertaining the number
of Lady Cecilia's card, that I shall be enabled to
fathom the disguise of her costume, whatever it
be : for I shall enjoin tho hall-porter to bear in
mind the dress of the lady who presents that par-
ticular card — and he will then give me the infor-
mation. So soon as I obtain it, it shall be whis-
pered in the ear of your gipsy friend carrying the
white rose in her hand."

I again expressed my gratitude to the young
nobleman for his kindness ; and instead of pursuing
my way to Lady Cecilia Urban's, I returned to
Hunter Street. I found Mr. and Mrs. Norman
and Juliet still seated together in the breakUst
parlour — Mr. Norman engaged with the newspaper
— his wife studying apart in a new piece — and the
daughter apparently reading a book, though ia
reality buried in her reflections.

" There is a topic," I said, taking my seat
amongst them, " which for two or three days has
not been mentioned."

" I know what you mean, dear Ellen," said
Juliet, with quivering lips : " but that topic,
though unspoken of, has not been absent from my
thoughts."

Mr. and Mrs. Norman intimated the same ; and
they all three regarded me with curiosity — for they
saw by my look and manner that I had something
to communicate.

" Since you are all in the same mind still," I
proceeded, " I can have no hesitation in informing
you that the object may be carried out. I am
offered a card of admission to a masked ball at the
Duchess of Ardleigh's to-morrow night : Lady
Cecilia Urban will be there : I will go disguised as
a gipsy : and under the pretext of telling her for-
tune, will convey a warning which it must be her
own fault if she neglect. I will enjoin her to
secrecy : but even if she should neglect my injuno-

143

ELIEN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

tion and speak to Lord Frederick on the subject,
he cannot possibly suspect that the destruction of
his hopes emanates from any one beneath this roof.
Indeed, not for a moment will be fancy that either
of us couid have obtained admission within the
portals of Ardleigh House on such an occasion."

Mr. and Mrs. Korman, as well as Juliet, com-
pletely approved of my project ; and as they ima-
gined that the oflfer of the card of admittance
must have emanated from the Duchess herself,
I was not questioned on the subject. The
reader will now have comprehended that it was
my intention to take the gipsy's character on my-
self, though I had suffered Lord Dalrymple to
imagine that it was a friend who would avail her-
self of the card he had promised to forward. It
was with considerable repugnance I had made up
my mind to penetrate in such a stealthy manner
into Ardleigh House ; but I knew that the pro-
ceeding must be managed with the utmost tact and
caution ; and I did not ask Juliet to undertake the
part, because I was well aware that her feelings
would get the better of her when speaking to Lady
Cecilia of the treachery of him whom she had loved
so fondly. It lay between Juliet and myself to
enact the part of the disguised gipsy ; and thus,
for the reason just explained, I was resolved to do
violence to my own inclinations and take the duty
on myself.

For the rest of that day, and throughout the fol-
lowing one, Juliet and I busied ourselves in making
up the costume that I was to wear. The Marquis
of Dalrymple sent the card according to his pro-
mise ; and as he had told me, I found that it bore
no name, but was merely numbered.

Fortunately I had not to appear at the theatre
on the evening of the masked ball — for I only per-
formed on alternate nights. Thus my time was
entirely at my own disposal; and punctually at
nine o'clock I took my seat in a carriage that was
hired for the purpose, — as I would not proceed to
my destination in the Normans' equipage for fear
that it should be recognised. And here I may
take the opportunity of giving the reader some
idea of the costume that I wore. There are few
who have not in their juvenile days beheld the
gaudily coloured frontispieces to the pamphlet con-
taining the Biography and Prophecies of the old
Norwood Gipsy. In those flaunting pictures the
renowned dame is represented with a short red
cloak, serving rather as a cape, and revealing the
antique-fashioned gown all gathered up in such a
nMinner as to display the petticoat. Somewhat
after this style was my fancy dress on the present
occasion. I wore a black silk dress, the skirt of
■which was gathered up in capacious folds, thus
revealing a yellow embroidered petticoat. I had
the characteristic red cloak, with the hood drawn
over my head; and a false front of coarse black
hair entirely concealed my own. The black silk
vizard which I wore was not of the usual mas-
querade fashion, descending only to the lips aud
then terminating with a fringe: but it covered
the entire countenance— and I had purposely
pierced the eyelet holes very small, so that there
should be the less chance of recognition in respect
to my eyes. In my hand I carried a beautiful
arliik-ial white rose ; and thus my costume was
complete. I may add that by the fact of the silk
dress being gathered up into so bulky a mass, and

by the manner in which the folds of the red clorik
were disposed, the natural symmetry of my shapo
was completely concealed ; and the padding which
Juliet had artistically worked into the back part
of the cloak, especially where it lay upon the
shoulders, gave me a stooping and almost deformed
appearance. Indeed, before I left Hunter Street,
Juliet herself, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Norman,
declared that they coul'J not possibly have recog-
nised me if meeting me at a masked ball and pre-
viously unaware of the nature of the dress 1 in»
tended to assume.

Ardleigh House was reached ; and there was
already a throng of vehicles. But I noticed that
most of them appeared to be hired ones,— it
evidently being the study of the patrician mas-
queraders to avoid as much as possible the chances
of recognition, which would certainly have been
greater if they had arrived in their accustomed
equipages. But every precaution was taken at the
mansion itself to afl'ord fair play in this respect.
From the lofty portals to the very verge of the
pavement, a sort of covered passage was con-
structed— an elongated tent, with an awning and
side-curtains ; so that as each equipage drove up,
the door of the carriage opened against the very
entrance of this tented corridor. No loungers
were permitted to be in the neighbourhood; aud
the carriages set down their human freightage in
rapid succession.

It was soon my turn to descend from the vehicle
that had brought me thither; and I sped along
the tented corridor towards the portals. As the
Marquis of Dalrymple had given me to understand
would be the case, I found the hall-porter standing
at a table, on which was a mahogany bos with a
small aperture in the top; and as I presented him
my card of admission, he just glanced at it, and
dropped it into the box. I pnssed on, ascending
the grand staircase, up which the human tide was
flowing in all possible varieties of hues, as if it
were a stream coverc-d with the leaves of myriads
of different coloured flowers.

CHAPTEE XXVIII.

THE ilASQUEKADE. ,

The staircase was most tastefully arranged with
plants on either side, and decorated with festoons
of artificial flowers. The lauding was similarly
embellished; and as I entered the state-apartments,
the scene was truly picturesque and brilliant. A
considerable portion of the guests had already
arrived ; and these presented to the view all the
usual varieties of fancy costume, I need not
linger upon the description of the characters thus
personated. Suffice it to say there was no lack of
Greek brigands and Swiss peasant girls, magicians
and shepherdesses, mountebanks av:d warriors, che-
valiers and cavaliers, heroines ef romance and
history : but all the dresses were of the richest
and most costly description.

The Duke and Duchess of Ardleigh alone ap-
peared without masks ; but they nevertheless wore
fancy costumes. The Duke had taken it into his
head to personate Paganini, of whom he was a
great admirer: for be it rememberoi that his

ELIEN PEECT; OS, TUB MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS.

119

Grace flattered himself that he was no meau dis-
ciple of the saiije art as that in which the great
professorwas so wondrous a proficient. If he had
chosen that character in reference to his own spare
lean figure, he certainly selected a part that in his
physical capacity he was well able to represent ;
and truth compels me to declare that he looked in-
significant enough : for the light of true genius
which was wont to beam in the strange dark eyes
of Paganini, and shed such a wild lustre over his
pale countenance, was utterly wanting in respect
to the Duke of Ardleigh. The Duchess repre-
sented Catharine de Medici ; and she had studied
the appropriate costume with the most exquisite
taste, while its gorgeous richness set off the fine
shape to the most splendid advantage, and rendered
her natural queenly beauty all the more dazzling
and imposing. Close behind the Duke of Ardleigh
was an individual dressed as a Beef-eater, and with
a mask upon his countenance. By the stoutness
of his person, his stature and his shape, and his
sycophantic proximity to the Duke, I had no dif-
ficulty in comprehending that this was Mr. Pease-
blossom.

The ducal host and hostess were stationed near
the entrance of the brilliantly lighted saloon, so
that they might welcome their guests as they
flowed into that magnificent apartment. The
Duchess bowed in an affable manner: but the
Duke had some passing joke for every wearer of
a costume that peculiarly struck his fancy. Thus,
when I made my appearance, his Grace said, " You
shall tell my fortune, red-cloaked dame, before the
evening is finished Shan't she, Pease "

But here he stopped short, as he half turned
round towards his toady who stood behind him :
for the Duchess threw upon her husband a look
which was as much as to warn him against men-
tioning any names.

Wandering about the saloon, I carried the white
rose as if listlessly in my hand : but I anxiously
awaited the moment when I should receive the
promised information from the Marquis of Dal-
rymple. There was a superb band in the orchestra ;
and the rich sounds of its music went rolling and
swelling through the spacious saloon. The guests
kept pouring in with rapidity, and the dancing
soon commenced. When the gentlemen were
choosing partners, I purposely kept myself aloof
to avoid a solicitation for my hand, as I did not
wish to mingle in the actual amusements of the
evening, nor to delay the moment when the Mar-
quis of Dalrymple might accost me with the ex-
pected intelligence. But as I was seated in a
remote corner, a gentleman dressed as a Spanish
Cavalier of the sixteenth century, accosted me, —
saying in the accustomed tone of masquerading
familiarity and hadinage, " The promptings of my
heart convince me that the garb of the old jSTor-
wood Gripsy conceals a lovely face and a beautiful
figure. Will you not, therefore, most fair reader
of the future, bestow your hand for the nonce upon
Don Leon Cortez of Estremadura ?"

I could not possibly refuse ; and I was moreover
seized with curiosity, for it struck me that the
Toice, though evidently feigned, was not unfamiliar
to my ears. Indeed, a strange suspicion had en-
tered into my mind; and as I contemplated the
height and symmetry of Don Leon Cortez, that
suspicion was strengthened. In short I became

convinced that this was none other than Lorci
Frederick Ravenscliffe who was leading me to the
dance. But so well was his countenance concealed
by the mask— so completely was its configuration
disguised by the false whiskers and the pointed
beard — so entirely were his natural gestures lost
in the graceful swaggering of the half proud, half
elegant hidalgo— that I was still wrapped in un-
certainty as to the truth of my suspicion. I how-
ever resolved to be entirely on my guard, and to
alter the tones of my voice to the extent of my
power.

" When the time for unmasking shall arrive,"
said my partner, after a few common-place obser-
vations, " my prescience will be justified by the
revelation of a beautiful face from behind that
vizard. And perhap?," he continued, contem-
plating me earnestly through the holes of his own
mask, " the coarse black gipsy hair will give place
to Hyperion ringlets of auburn or of chestnut."

I was now convinced that this was really Lord
Frederick Ravensclife ; for he had fully betrayed
himself by some of the inflections of his voice.
But I saw that he had not the remotest suspicion
who I really was; — as indeed how could he enter-
tain any such idea ? how could he suppose that I
should be amongst the brilliant guests at the ducal
house of Ardleigh ? I made some observation in
answer to his hadinage, but in a voice completely
feigned; and I was likewise careful to keep my
looks averted as much as possible.

"I overheard the Duke tell you, most beautfful
of gipsies," he continued, " that in the course of
the evening you should tell his Grace his fortune.
May I hope that for me likewise you will exercise j
your powers of penetrating into futurity ?"

" It is my vocation — and I must fulfil it," I
answered. " But wherefore do your eyes wander
around the room?" I continued. "Do you seek
for some one to whom your vows are plighted?
Methinks that she who has the greatest claim
upon your heart will not meet you here to-
night."

Lord Frederick started visibly; and I could
judge what was passing in his mind. He doubt-
less wondered whether this was mere randon badi'
nage on my part — or whether it had a certain
significancy pointing towards the secret which lay
in the profundities of his guilty conscience. But
the circumstances of the dance temporarily inter-
rupted our conversation; and when there was an
opportunity for renewing it. Lord Frederick said
in a light gay tone, " Your steps and your move-
ments are replete with gliding grace. The gipsy
who would seem threescore, is yet a young lady in
her teens."

" And if it be so," I answered, " is not this a
scene for innocent deceptions ? And in that re-
spect it is far from being an epitome of the great
world which lies beyond these walls."

" There is satire in your words, most inscrutable
gipsy," responded Lord Frederick : and again I
could distinguish that he was a prey to more or
less uneasiness or uncertainty.

" Not satire," I rejoined : " I only spoke the
truth. Would it not be better if our deeds in that
great world to which I am alluding, were so little
fraught with cause for self-reproach, that they left
our hearts all the more free to enjoy the unmixed
delight of such recreative scenes as this ?"

150

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE JIEMOIES OF AH ACTEES3.

" Tho lips which should deal only ia prophe-
cies," answered Lord Frederick, "are dealing in
sermons."

" Morals and aphorisms are in themselves often
prophetic," I at once rejoined : and then again did
the requirements of the dance cut short the dis-
course.

While I was gliding through the figure, I
thought to mjself that I had said quite enough to
Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe to render him uneasy
and to prepare him as it were for the grand result
which it was the object of my visit to achieve: so
that I was determined not to become more pointed
in my allusions, for fear lest he might begin to
suspect that which I was so anxious to conceal.
Accordingly, for the remainder of the time that
we were together in the dance, I conversed upon
lighter subjects ; and on being led back to my seat,
I was impressed with the conviction that he had
not the remotest idea who I really was.

He had scarcely left me, when I beheld an
elegantly-dressed cavalier of the Court of Louis
the Fourteenth approaching me ; and he sat down
by my side. His height and the symmetry of his
person justified the suspicion that this was the
Marquis of Dalrymple ; and so it proved to be :
for he at once addressed me in his natural tones,
but in a voice that was cautiously low almost to a
whisper.

" By the symbol of the white rose," he said, " I
am to understand that you expect a certain piece
of intelligence ?"

I bowed without speaking.

" Look," he continued, — " look to the farther
extremity of the room ; and upon that ottoman —
near the spot where the Duke and Duchess are
I standing, you perceive three ladies conversing to
a group of gentlemen. That lady in the middle,
dressed as Eebecca — I need not remind you of
Scott's novel of 'Ivanhoe' — is the one to whom
you will presently have to address yourself. If
you require any farther succour at my hands,
hesitate not to accost me."

Having thus spoken, the Marquis of Dalrymple
rose from his seat, bowed, and glided away. I
could not help admiring, and being even affected
by the generous delicacy with which he behaved.
Evidently not suspecting who I really was, he did
not seek to gratify any curiosity on the subject :
he had not even looked at me with a scrutinizing
attention ; his demeanour was respectful, courteous
and kindly considerate.

In a few moments I quitted my seat, and began
moving amidst the gay laughing assemblage to-
wards that extremity of the spacious saloon where
lady Cecilia Urban was seated. As I was pro-
ceeding thither I suddenly encountered a gentle-
man who was dressed as David Eizzio, as that
Italian Secretary is represented in pictures in
scenes of the life of Mary Queen of Scotland. I
should not have thus specially noticed him, had he
not started visibly, while an ejaculation burst from
his lips. To my ear it sounded peculiar ; for there
was aflPright as well as amazement in it; and as I
surveyed him with a rapid glance, I was smitten
with the conviction that he was none other than
Edwin St. Clair. No wonder that he should be
thus struck on beholding a gipsy carrying that
mysteriously emblematical flower which had so re-
cently produced such a terrible effect upon himself !

I did not wish to enter into discourse with him :
for I knew how keen, shrewd, and penetrating he
was. I therefore appeared to notice not that my
costume had thus strongly excited him ; and I
was moving on, when another ejaculation, which
seemed almost an echo of his own, fell upon my
ears. This was a female voice ; and glancing
towards her from whom it came, I beheld the per-
sonification of Queen Marie Antoinette. The lady's
toilette was rich and elegant; and the natural
colour of her hair was entirely concealed by the
powder which she wore, — her head-dress being ar-
ranged according to the fashion of the latter part of
the eighteenth century. The reader will of course
understand that St. Clair's countenance was en-
tirely concealed by a mask ; and so was this lady's.
Her peculiar toilet prevented me from identifying
her figure with that of the one whose image in-
stantaneously rose up in my mind : but still I felt
persuaded that she was Lady Lilla Essendine. I
noticed moreover that both St. Clair and herself
were struck by hearing the ejaculation which
escaped the lips of each ; and the rapid glances
which I flung showed me that they were now
looking earnestly at each other. Both made a
movement as if to accost me — but both simul-
taneously held back ; and as I passed on, I saw
that they then advanced towards each other.

I gained the further extremity of the room;
and not being immediately able to accost Lady
Cecilia Urban, as she was still conversing with the
ladies and gentlemen who were with her, I looked
about to see what had become of St. Clair and
Lady Lilla Essendine. The latter was no longer
visible : but the former was approaching towards
the spot where I had halted. Though assuming
the negligent lounging air of a ball-room, he was
evidently bent on accosting me ; and I seemed to
have a kind of intuitive knowledge that there was
a nervous uneasiness in his soul. Doubtless he
might fancy on the one hand that the appear-
ance of a gipsy with a white rose was a mere coin-
cidence, accidental and without significancy : but
on the other hand, the circumstance had evidently
made more or less impression upon him, I moved
away — but not with an air as if I purposely in-
tended to avoid him : he however continued to
follow me, though with a visible irresolution
whether he should address me or not. At length
he made up his mind ; and advancing straight
towards me, said, " May I solicit your hand for
the quadrille that is about to take place P"

I was determined not to dance with Edwin St.
Clair ; and I accordingly declined the honour, on
the plea that my hand was already engaged to
some one else. He was about to say something
more, when I espied the Marquis of Dalrymple at
a little distance ; and hastening to accost him, I
said in a feigned voice, " Your lordship can reader
me a service. May I be permitted to force myself
upon you as a partner in this dance !"

" With pleasure," he immediately responded.
" It is sufficient that you are a friend of Miss
Percy to command my attentions and my ser-
vices."

I bad taken this step so hurriedly that I had no
leisure to reflect upon it until it was accomplished.
My object was to get rid of St. Clair, but yet to
do so in a manner which should prevent him from
supposing that I had refused to dance with him

liLLEN PERCY J OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEE8B.

131

on a mere pretext and without being engaged to
any otLer. Now, however, I began to think that
I was improperly tasiug the Marquis of DaU
rymple'8 kindness : for not knowing that I was
Ellen Percy, he might fancy I was some actress of
perhaps an inferior grade, with whom he could not
possibly care to associate himself. But his manner
throughout the dance was most courteous and most
kind. He seemed to study to take all the conver-
sation upon himself and make me speak as little as
possible : he never once looked at me as with a
desire to penetrate behind the concealment of my
mask : nor did he even make the slightest allusion
to the peculiar circumstances in which I found
myself a guest beneath that ducal roof. I was
profoundly touched by the generosity and delicate
consideration of the young nobleman's entire con-
duct ; and from the very bottom of my heart did I,
in its silent aspirations, wish Herbert Dalrymple
the utmost amount of happiness that could possi-
bly become the lot of a mortal being.

Scarcely was the quadrille concluded, when he
eaid to me, " Lady Cecilia is now alone. Hasten to
avail yourself of the opportunity !" — and this was
the only reference he made during the dance to
the purpose which had brought me to the masked
ball.

I quitted him, and spsd towards the spot where
Lady Cecilia was now standing ; for she had moved
away from the ottoman on which I had previously
seen her seated. As I have already said, she was
dressed as Rebecca, the heroine of Scott's magni-
ficent novel of " Ivanhoe." For this character she
was admirably adapted by her figure : and but for
the vizard which she wore, the aquiline profile of
her countenance would have been even still more
appropriate. Her dress, rich and handsome, cor-
responded with the sumptuous toilet of the Jew's
daughter; and as her complexion was naturally
pale, with the slightest and most delicate tint of
the brunette, as much as could be seen thereof —
namely, on the neck and arms — was like-wise in
perfect keeping with the personification she had
chosen for the occasion. She wore a mask of the
usual description, descending only to the upper
lip, and bordered on the lower edge by a silken
fringe. Thus the fulness and cherry hue of those
lips were partially visible ; and presently, as her
breath blew aside the silken fringe, glimpses of the
brilliant teeth were likewise caught below the
mask. She evidently studied not very particularly
to conceal her identity : she doubtless felt that the
superb symmetry of her figure was set off to the
utmost advantage by the costume that she wore ;
and her natural pride rendered it by no means dis-
agreeable that it should be suspected who she
really was. Still, however, I should not have b«en
able, without the assistance of the Marquis, to re-
cognise her with any degree of certainty : for
amidst the six or seven hundred guests who were
present, there were many ladies of a figure, a
height, and a symmetry bearing a strong resem-
blance to her own.

Lady Cecilia was now standing alone, and a
little apart from the nearest group of masquerad-
ing guests. I accosted her — and said in a feigned
tone, but with the gay raillery which was suitable
to the scene, " How is it that the beauteous Ee-
becca is thus alone ?— or does she remain here the
better to contemplate and to make her reflections

upon the proceedings that are passing beiore
her ?"

" "Would you tell me my fortune ?" she in-
quired, with that aristocratic affability which had a
tincture of condescension in it, although she might
naturally suppose that she was conversing with an
equal.

" I know not, beauteous Rebecca," I re-
sponded, " that I shall be enabled to tell your
fortune : — for this means that I am to sketch
forth your eventual career — whereas it is written
in the book of destiny that your future from a cer-
tain given starting-point is to depend upon your-
self. You stand as it were upon the entrance of
two diverging roads; and therefore whichsoever
you may choose to enter upon, will conduct
through the chequered and varying scenery pecu-
liar to itself."

Lady Cecilia Urban, evidently regarding this
discourse as the mere jargon which I deemed suit-
able to my assumed character, smiled, and said,
" But if you be indeed a prophetess, can you aot
suggest which of the two roads it were preferable
for me to take, and which ought to be avoided ?"

"The vocation of the veritable and truthful
gipsy," I answered, with a certain solemnity, " is
to hold out warnings as well as to be profuse in
promises; — and this is the task which I will now,
with your permission, enter upon."

"You grow serious," said Lady Cecilia.

" It is a serious subject," I rejoiced. " In the
midst of the giddiest scenes of life it were well
sometimes that solemn thoughts should intrude.
Let us step aside ; and you may perhaps become
more interested in my discourse than yon may
now expect or anticipate."

I could see that the dark lustrous eyes of Lady
Cecilia Urban were fixed upon me with a scruti-
nizing look, through the holes of the mask, — as if
she sought to penetrate whether I were only ad-
hering simply to my assumed character, or whether
I had any ulterior purpose in view. At the same
time I could discern that her lips grew serious :
they closed— and the line of ivory was no longer
visible between the parting of their cherry red-
ness.

" Come this way," she said. " I think I know
where we may be alone."

"We passed out upon the landing ; and a side-
door admitted us into a room evidently appro-
priated for the accommodation of those ladies
whose toilets might become in any way disordered
during the recreations of the evening, and who
might wish to retire for the purpose of adjusting
them. As Lady Cecilia had expected, we were
alone there together : she closed the door ; and
still speaking in the feigned voice which she had
all along assumed, she said, "Are you really
serious in wishing to make some communica-
tion?"

" I am really serious," I answered, likewise
continuing to speak in disguised accents.

"You know me, then ?" said Lady Cecilia.

" Yes— I know your ladyship," I rejoined.

"And after all," she immediately continued,
now speaking in her natural voice, and with a
laugh that was slightly scornful, " there is in this
recognition no very remarkable proof of your
divining qualities : for I have scarcely studied to
conceal my identity — not one hundredth part as

153

ELLEN TEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESa.

much as you have done ! But am I not to know
who yov, are ?"

" Assuredly not," was my answer : " and per-
haps you will find that my character is not quite
so much assumed as you have hitherto sup-

" This is ridiculous !" said Lady Cecilia haugh-
tily. " In the other room it was only proper and
suitable that you should play your part : but here
— where our interview seems to have a more

serious purpose "

" Serious it indeed is," I interrupted her ; " and
I have truly a warning to give you. But before I
enter upon this self-imposed task, I demand im-
plicit secrecy from your lips; — and even when
acting according to the counsel I shall give, I
trust to your ladyship's honour not to explain the
motives to whomsoever your actions may con-
cern."

" Do you know," said Lady Cecilia, again fixing
her regards most scrutinizingly upon me through
the holes of her mask, " that if you do not make
good your words and prove that you have veritably
a communication of moment to impart, I shall
consider that your conduct exceeds even the legi-
timate license of a masquerade, and that you are
trifling with me to the verge of an insult."

" But if, on the other hand," I said, '•' I do
make good my words, you will pledge yourself to
secrecy to the extent that I have already stipu-
lated ?"

" I pledge myself," replied Lady Cecilia. "And
now proceed."

" 1 have already hinted," I resumed, " that you
stand at the entrance of two diverging roads. The
public prints have announced that your inclina-
tions— and I am therefore to conceive that your
affections also, prompt your ladyship to take one
road— while, if you value your happiness, you will
take the other."

" Your reasons ? " asked Lady Cecilia, curtly
and coldly.

" I will mention certain names without dis-
guise," I responded. " The Earl of Carshalton's
son — Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe — is not a person
to ensure your felicity. He is hypocritical and

selfish "

" You have made assertions," interrupted Lady
Cecilia, with a cold and haughty incredulity,
" which are too serious to permit you any longer
to shield yourself behind that mask."

" I am no slanderer — no calumniatrix," I an-
swered proudly, but not forgetting to maintain
my assumed tone. " Listen, Lady Cecilia ! Not
many months have elapsed since the love of Lord

Frederick was bestowed upon another "

"And that perhaps was yourself P" she ex-
claimed scornfully.

"No," I rejoined with emphasis. "Can you
not distinguish between a poor and paltry vindic-
tiveness on the one hand, and the loftier purpose
of endeavouring to save you from a self sacrifice
on the other ?"

Lady Cecilia was visibly struck by these words
which had just fallen from my lips; and she said,
" Truly, if you should prove a friend, though a
disguised one, I should be grateful."

"Is there any possible test to which you could
put Lord Frederick," I asked, "so as to ascertain
whether his suit be founded on the selfish idea cf

possessing your fortune, or whether it bo based
upon a sincere love for yourself? If you can de-
vise such a test, I conjure you to practise it; and
you may then judge by the result whether you
have this night been addressed by the tongue of
infamous calumny, or whether the warning has
been given you from the best and purest mo-
tives."

Lady Cecilia reflected for a few moments ;
and then she said, " But why not treat me with
the fullest confidence ? If you require an oath, I
swear most sacredly that I will not betray what-
soever you may reveal to me. I will merely act
upon it."

" No — this I may not do," was my answer :
" there are reasons which so intimately regard
others that my lips must remain sealed in re-
spect to the circumstances that justify the warning
which I give you. But put that young nobleman
to the test, and if your ladyship will follow my
counsel, you will to the end of your days rejoice
in having paid attention to the words which have
now fallen from my lips."

" Yet you yourself must surely admit," she re-
joined, " that all this is too vague — too uncertain
— and too meagre, to destroy my confidence in one
who seems hitherto to have deserved it. Besides,
you have not made good your former words. You
have asserted everything and have proved no-
thing."

I could not blind myself to the truth of her
ladyship's observations : I reflected for a few mo-
ments : and I saw the absolute necessity of saying
something more.

"Remember, my lady," I continued, "you have
pledged yourself to secrecy in respect to what you
may now hear ; and you will simply act upon it,
without giving explanations."

" I have gone so far as to pledge myself to that
effect," replied Cecilia Urban ; " and I never tell
a falsehood," she added, drawing herself up to the
full of her commanding height.

" Then listen !" I said. " Lord Frederick
Ravenscliffe was but recently enamoured of an-
other ; and by the vilest stratagem he succeeded
in effecting her ruin. It was no ordinary case :
for it was done. Lady Cecilia, under the cover of a

mock marriage and I am acquainted with the

victim of that stupendous perfidy !"

" Then you must be the victim !" she said : and
in a moment she tore the mask from my face.
" What ! is it possible !" exclaimed Lady Cecilia,
with the haughtiest scorn : " the stage-actress at
the Duchess of Ardleigh's!"

"Madam," I said, my cheeks burning with in-
dignation, "you have performed an unhandsome
and a treacherous deed. But I will prove all that
I have said ; and you may yet have to thank the
stage-actress for preserving you from a marriage
that would assuredly result in unbappiness and
misery. Nay, more, madam — there is not an abso--
lute certainty in respect to the law of that case to
which I just referred; and Lady Cecilia Urban
would die with shame if at any future period it
were proved that she had married without actually
becoming a wife."

The young lady was evidently bewildered how
to act ; and while she was plunged in anxious
thought, I took the mask from her unresisting
hand, and adjusted it over my countenance.

ELLEN PERCT; OR. TUH MEMOIKS 01? AN ACTRESS.

153

MELI.SSA HARRISON.

* You say, Miss Trafford," she at length spoko
—and both her tone and manner were now con-
ci'.iatorj even to politeness, — " that you can prove
the truth of your words. Do this — and I shall
have reason to thank you. But be not surprised
to bear me now proclaim that if you fail 1 shall
regard you as a base ealumniatrix, anil 1 shall ex-
pose to the world the scene which has taken place
this night. Then farewell to the reputation
which Miss Trafford enjoys as a virtuous young
woman "

" If I fail to prove my words, Lady Cecilia,"
I interrupted her, " fulfil your menaces to the
utmost extent. But do not now remain impressed
with the idea that it was of myself 1 bad spoken.
Heaven forbid that I should have become the
victim of that young nobleman's villany ! Who
that victim really is, you will not know: but the
fact of the villany itself shall be demonstrated
unto you. Write to a certain Mr. Croft, at St.
Wo. 20.— Ellen Fsect.

Omer in France ; and I know that the return ot
the post will bring his reply," »■

" I will adopt your counsel, Miss Trafford," an-
swered Lady Cecilia. "But remember! — on the
one hand I can be grateful : on the other I can
prove a deadly enemy!"

" I accept the terms that you now suggest in such
extremes," was my answer. "And do you remem-
ber. Lady Cecilia, that you have solemnly pledged
yourself to secrecy.— There is one thing more I
would observe. I came hither expressly to give
you this warning: my object is accomplished— and
I am about to retire. You will oblige me by keep-
ing likewise the secret of my presence here."

"1 will do so," answered Lady Cecilia: then,
with a bow half condescending and half distant,
she issued from the room.

I remained behind for a few minutes in order to

assure myself that the hasty knot I had tied in the

I broken strings of my mask, held together firmly.

154.

£IJi£ir PEBCT; OS, a'HE MEMOIBS Of AS ACTBESS.

For this purpose 1 took off the mask for a moment;
and fortunate it was iu one respect that 1 did so —
for otherwise the strint; would have assuredly
giveu way, and this might have been the case iu
the presence of those who would have recognised
imd exposed me. But unfortunate was the pro-
ceeding in another sense : for scarcely had I re-
fastened the string, when a masked countenance
peered round into mine, and a well-known voice
screeched forth, " Gracious goodness ! the actress !
If poor dear Lord Mangold were alive "

And here she stopped short. It was indeed the
Countess of Mangold who had thus stolen upon me
unawares. Lady Cecilia must have left the door
ajar ; and as my back was towards it, I perceived
not the stealthy entrance of the old harridan. She
no doubt, observing an unmasked lady there, had
thought it a very fine thing to surprise me whoever
I might be ; and thus had she peeped round into
my face. I may observe that slae herself was
dressed as a Swiss Shepherdess— one of the most
'uveiiile costumes she could possibly have chosen — ■
with a straw hat perched airily upon a wig which
descended into myriads of clustering ringlets — with
the bodice laced up — and with short petticoats.
Even though the vizard concealed her vrrinkled
face, it was by no means difficult to discern the
old woman beneath the costume of a youthful
maiden. The instant she stopped short I adressed
her.

" Tes, Lady Mangold," I said, (?almly and col-
lectedly, "it is I and I am not ignorant of

the malignant spite you cherish against me. But
you dare not breathe a syllable of this discovery —
no, not even to your niece the Duchess of Ardleigh.
Por if you do, I also can tell a tale! — and there
is a certain shopkeeper who, with a policeman at
his heels, may call upon you to demand the resto-
ration of the three pieces of lace !"

" Oh, heavens ! what does the girl mean ?" ex-
claimed Lady Mangold, throwing herself upon a
chair and using her kerchief as a fan. " I'm sure
I don't want to say anything to wrong you : but
if poor dear Lord Mangold were alive "

I waited to hear no more : but having re-
adjusted my mask securely upon my countenance,
I issued from the room — having not the slightest
apprehension in respect to the safety of my secret
with old Lady Mangold.

As I was about to return into the grand
saloon for a moment, to seek the Marquis of Dal-
rymple, I caught the sound of a well-known voice
just within the threshold;— and that voice was St.
Clair's. He was immediately answered by Lady
Lilla Essendine ; and I heard what they both said.
They were speaking in their natural tones, but in
a subdued manner. If the reader can comprehend
what I mean, the door was thrown completely
back against the wall, and they were standing
together close by it. My foot was upon the
threshold : but the massive sculptured framework
of the door concealed me from them.

" But what can be the meaning of such a cos-
tume as that ?" I heard St. Clair ask. " The white
rose too ! — Lilla, you must have intentionally or
inadvertently — maliciously or unguardedly "

" I tell you that I have not !" interjected her
ladyship " Though we are mortal enemies, Ed-
win "

*!No matter now!" he petulantly broke i«a.

"The past, Lilla, will at least sometimes render It;
needful that we should converse together. Who
can that Gipsy possibly be ? 1 have my suspicioa
— and yet it is barely possible "

" Try and accost her presently," said Lady Lilla.
"But it cannot be Ellen! What should she be
doing here ? Besides, she passed ua both without
recognition "

" I am not so sure of that," rejoined St. Clair.
" Can you swear to me, Lilla, that you never
breathed a syllable "

" I have already given you an assurance to that
effect. Do you think I am mad ? Implacable as
I may be towards you— and ever shall be, villain
that you are "

" Hush ! be not foolish !" interrupted St. Clair.
"That girl knows more than we suspect. Twice
has she baffled me by words frightfully signifi-
cant "

" Enough !" said Lady Lilla. " Your very pre-
sence is loathsome to me !"

My ears then caught a movement of persons
moving away from the vicinage of the door : I
held back for a few moments, and was about to
enter, when fortunately the Marquis of Dalrymple
himself made his appearance.

" Ah !" he said, " you have gained your object ?
I saw you leave the room with Lady Cecilia.
What can I now do for you ? If you will partake
of refreshments, they shall be served up to you —
alone — in some apartment "

" My lord," I replied, still adopting a feigned
voice, " I am about to take my departure; and I
was on the point of seeking your lordship to beg
your escort to the vehicle which brought mo
hither. I ordered it to return punctually at mid-
night ; and the driver will answer to the questiou
whether Miss Smith's carriage is waiting ?"

The young Marquis immediately gave mo his
arm, and conducted me down-stairs. We traversed
the hall : he made a sign for the servants who
were officiously pressing forward, to stand back ;
and he himself issued forth to order up my equi-
page. This was the work of but a few moments,
for no other vehicle had as yet arrived to convey
the guests away. He handed me in — bowed — and
at once retreated into the mansion, evidently that
he might not seem to linger for the purpose of
overhearing any instructions that I could possibly
have to give to the coachman.

CHAPTER XXIX.

lADX MACBETH.

Thus terminated my masquerading adventures at
Ardleigh House, I was not altogether dissatisfied
at the result of my interview with Lady Cecilia
Urban — though the task had proved a more diffi-
cult one than I had anticipated, and though I had
little foreseen that my identity would become re-
vealed to her. I felt assured that the object
would be gained, and that she would take htr
measures accordingly, without proving faithless to
the vow that she had so solemnly pledged. But
there was another topic which agitated in my
thoughts ; and this was the conversation I had over-
beard between Edwin St. Clair and Lady Lilla

ELLEN PEECY; OR, THH MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTKESS.

155

Bisenriine. That her ladyship had been St. Clair's
victim — that she was the authoress of that letter
which I had found at his house, I had no longer a
scintillation of doubt : for there was evidently a
mysterious and terrible connexion between those
two, — the bond formed by the consciousness and
complicity of some crime of which the white rose
was unquestionably the symbol. Lady Lilla Es-
Bendine had evidently deceived St. Clair in one
respect : she had denied that she had ever given
me the slightest hint or information in respect to
the use of that emblem. St. Clair was bewildered
to conjecture how I could possibly have known
anything on the subject : but although Lady Lilla
iEssendine could, if she had chosen, have acquainted
him how it was I had in the first instance pre-
sented him the flower, — yet she herself must now
be doubtless at a loss to surmise how I could have
attained that farther clue to the mystery of the
floral emblem which had enabled me to give utter-
ance to the words that were really suggested to me
by the gipsy Zarah. I was glad that I had escaped
from Ardleigh House before St. Clair had an op-
portunity of addressing me : for with his shrewd-
ness, and with a slight suspicion already float-
ing in his mind, he could not have failed to pene-
trate through the disguise of garments and the
simulation of voice. As he had not therefore suc-
ceeded in obtaining speech with me at the mas-
querade, I thought it by no means improbable that
Lady Lilla Essendine would call upon me in the
course of a day or two, in the hope perhaps of
being made the confidante of my secrets.

I returned to Hunter Street, and found the
Normans sitting up to receive me. Without en-
tering into those particulars which would have
compelled me to mention the name of Mr. Croft
and the reference which was to be made to him by
Lady Cecilia Urban, I told them sufiicient to show
that her ladyship was already more than half-
prepared to break off her contpmplated alliance
with Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ; and that she
purposed to put his sincerity to some test that
would doubtless bring matters to the termination
which we all desired.

On the following day I wrote to my father, tell-
ing him that he might expect a letter from Lady
Cecilia Urban, and begging him to. answer it in a
manner that should not compromise the name of
Juliet Norman. In the evening of that day I was
to perform the character of Lady Macbeth ; and it
was one to which I had devoted particular study.
I had before enacted the part of that dread heroine
of one of Shakspere's most powerful dramas ; and
the newspaper critics had flattered me with the
highest encomia. There were always crowded
audiences on the nights of my appearance: but
upon this particular occasion the theatre was lite-
rally filled to overflowing. My reception was well
calculated to inspire me with all the energy suffi-
cient for that awful personification which I had to
accomplish : but I need not tell the reader that it
is in the first Scene of the last Act where the
tragic actress may produce the most awe-inspiring
efit'ct. It is that scene where Lady Macbeth,
goaded by the remorse of conscience, rises from
the couch, takes the taper in her hand, and wanders
as a somnambulist, A Physician and a Gentle-
woman attached to the person of Lady Macbeth,
watch her movements. The most perfect command

of countenance is required by the actress to give
effect to this scene: for be it remembered that
though Lady Macbeth's "eyes are open," yet
" their setise is shut." Apparelled as if I had
merely thrown on a loose wrapper on rising from
my couch — with naked feet, and hair all dishevelled
— carrying the taper in my hand, I appeared upon
the partially darkened stage. During the intervals
when the " aside " colloquy of the Physician and
the Gentlewoman ceased — and before I began
giving utterance to the words of a terrific remorse
acting upon the ever wakeful conscience of one
who physically was asleep— a pin might have been
heard to drop, so stupendous was the silence.
There was evidently a solemnly awful and sus-
penseful feeling en the part of the entire audience.
Then my voice rose upon that silence ; and I spoke
the following words : —

"Out, damned spot! out, I say! — One; Two!

Why, then 'tis time to do't : Hell is murky 1—

Fye, my lord, fye ! a soldier and afeard ? What
need wo fear who knows it, when none can call
our power to account ? — Yet who would have
thought the old man to have so much blood in
'him ?"

This speech— though brief, still so full of dark
and terrible meaning — was scarcely concluded,
when a shriek rang through the immense theatre ;
and there was immediately a movement and agita-
tion in one of the side-boxes. Some one had evi-
dently fainted and was being borne forth by those
who were nearest to her. Others stood up in the
front seat; and thus I could not see who the lady
was — for it was a female voice which had sent
forth that rending scream. For a minute or two
an universal sensation prevailed ; but as it was
one of those incidents which occasionally occur at
theatres, where the nervous feeling of an individual
may be powerfully acted upon by the incidents
represented on the stage, that sensation soon sub-
sided, and the tragedy continued to the end.

When the drama was over, I sought Mr.
Richards to make inquiries concerning the lady
who had been so powerfully affected ; for I knew
that he could not have failed to interest himself
under such circumstances.

"Her ladyship speedily recovered," answered
the lessee, " and was conducted to her equipage,
which was in attendance. It seems that her lady-
ship has recently been an invalid ; and it is one of
the highest compliments to your genius, Miss

Trafford "

" But who is this lady of whom you are speak-
ing ?" I inquired.

" Ah, her name ! — I forgot tp mention it," said
Mr. Richards. " It is a singular one — but pretty

and poetical Lady Lilla Essendine."

An ejaculation was about to burst from iny lips:
but I checked it, and hastening away, retired to
my dressing-room. I was shocked at the an-
nouncement which had just reached my ears. At
first I had fancied that it was merely the vivid
portraiture of Shakspere's creation which baa
produced that overpowering effect upon some
lady of weak nerves, but whose own mind could
have no more association with the realities of
crime than the reader has with the woos of a
heroine depicted in a novel which draws tears
from his eyes. But that it should have been Liidy
Lilla whose naturally strong mind thus tempo-

rarilv gave way AU ! I shuddered throughout

my entire being as I thought it was indeed the
consciousness of some crime which under the in-
fluence of that vivid personification of guilt itself
Lad sent forth a cry of most real agor.y !

On returning to Hunter Street, the incident
was discussed by tho Normans : but I said not a
syllable to throw any light on the occurrence— or
rather I should perhaps say, to alter the impres-
Bion which they held in respect to it. The news-
papers of the following morning, while lavishing
the most flattering eulogies upon my performance,
mentioned the incident, — without however pa-
rading the lady's name,— as a proof of the power-
ful effect which my personification of Lady Mac-
beth was calculated to produce upon the mind.
The occurrence added immensely to my popularity;
and in the course of that day I received several
billets from ladies of the highest rank, entreating
me to appear again as Lady Macbeth on the next
night of my performance.

But I have now to speak of another incident.
Nine or ten months had elapsed since I had
visited Colonel Bellow's house on behalf of Me-
lissa Harrison. As tho reader is aware, the result
of that visit was unproductive of any benefit for
the poor young woman. Almost immediately
afterwartls I myself had entered upon that dra-
matic career which was at once to be stamped with
success, and which was to place me in a position
of pecuniary independence. Melissa was then ex-
ceedingly ill ; and her medical attendant had given
her to understand that she must never again ap-
pear upon the stage to exercise her vocation as a
dansense. When she began to grow somewhat
better, I insisted that she should repair to a
watering-place, " where the bracing saline breeze
would contribute to her recovery." It was thus
that I spoke in encouraging terms — not however
in my own heart daring to hope that her health
would ever be completely restored. It was with
the greatest difficulty I had succeeded in forcing
upon Melissa the funds requisite for her excursion :
but at length she yielded ; and for several months
she remained at the sea side. She then returned to
London ; and a marvellous change had taken place
in her. The colour had come back to her cheeks :
the blueish circles which the hand of death itself
had some while back appeared to have traced round
the eyes, were completely gone : her figure had re-
gained its robustness ; she looked far better and
handsomer than on the first day I had ever seen
her. She spoke of returning to the stage : but I
besought her not to imperil by such a step this
really marvellous restoration to health. She yielded
to my intercessions — but declared that she would
seek fur some means of honourable subsistence, as
she was resolved not to continue a burden upon
my resources. I bade her continue to nur.-e her-
self for a short time longer, until we had time to
talk over the plans that might best suit her views ;
and thus I succeeded in making her pass the
severest of the winter months without again start-
ing the project of a return to the stage.

These episodical explanations in respect to Me-
lissa Harrison, again bring me down to the date
which the progress of my own narrative had
reached. It was on the day after the incident at
the theatre, when I peiforraed Lady Macbeth,
that I received a note from Melissa, begging me

to call upon her. I accordingly repaired to her
lodgings; and she rtCL'ived me with her wonted
affectionate and grateful welcome,

" Sit down, my dear friend," she said ; " for I
am going to tax your patience for a brief space,
while I converse with you upon my own affairs."

" I regret, my dear Melissa," I answered, " that
I should not as yet have beeu enabled to suggest
any moans "

" Suffer me to speak, dear Ellen !" interrupted
Melissa, but with a tone and look full of kindness.
" I have been thinking much — I may even say
continuously, upon the circumstances in which I
am placed. For many months I have been depen-
dent entirely upon your bounty "

"Call it not bounty, Melissa," I said: "it was
friendship. I have only done for you that which
I am convinced you would have done for me, had
our circumstances been reversed."

" Oh, yes ! You only do me justice, Ellen," ex-
claimed Miss Harrison, " though your observation
is most kind ! But I cannot bear to continue eat-
ing the bread which is given to me by a friendship
even so pure and sweet as yours. Besides, it is
not only bread for me that you have given — but
bread likewise for tny child — my little Me-
lissa—^''

" You know that I am well off," I answered ;
" and of what avail is it to be prosperous, unless
with the gold thus earned good is done towards
one's fellow. creatures ?"

" I know, Ellen, that all your sentiments are of
the noblest character," replied Melissa ; "and no
one more than myself rejoices in your prosperity.
But I beseech you to listen to me ! I am resolved
henceforth to eat the bread of mine own industry.
I have thought of taking in needle-work : but that
would be to toil as a slave, for a slave's pittance ;
— and besides, confinement to a close heated room
would speedily fling me back upon a bed of sick-
ness. For a preceptress I am unfitted: I have not
the requisite accomplishments; — and besides, who
would entrust their children to the care of one
who was recently a ballet-dancer ? Then, what
alternative have I but to return to the stage?
My health is completely restored : my life has
been saved, Ellen, by your kindness. Disease had
not fastened so completely upon me as to be be-
yond cure : tho ignorance of a medical adviser,
and my own desponding feelings at the time, con-
jured up phantoms which have since been dis-
pelled. Do not therefore, my dear friend, argue
against the resolve which I have taken! — suffer
me to return to the stage ! It is an avocation
which leaves me leisure to breathe the fresh air
out of doors, and take tho exercise that will sus-
tain me in health."

I did however essay to dissuade Melissa from
her purpose : but it was all in vain. Her resolu-
tion was fixed ; and I was compelled to drop the
argument.

" Would it be indiscreet," asked Melissa, when
a turn was given to the conversation, " to inquire
whether there be any chance of our friend Juliet
likewise returning to the stage ? You know that
I have kept myself in such perfect seclusion since
my return from the sea-side — I have visited no
one, and received no visits except from yourself—
and thus I have beou as it were allogathor out of
the world. I remember there was a rumour soma

five or six months ago, to the effect tliat a wealthy
relation of the Normans had suddenly conde-
scended to notice them ; and Juliet, I believe, went
on a visit to her. But has she any prospect of in-
heriting that relative's riches P I sincerely hope
so!"

The reader will recollect that the report to
which Melissa alluded, had been purposely spread
by the Normans at the time in order to account
for Juliet's absence on the honeymoon of her sup-
posed marriage. I did not now choose to state
that the whole was a falsehood : neither would I
lend myself to the sustenance or propagation of
the untruth. My response was therefore guarded,
but delivered with an air of frankness.

" It is perfectly true," I said, " that the Nor-
mans possess a wealthy relative — a Mrs. Oldcastle
— at Dover : but I am afraid that they have little
prospect of inheriting wealth in that quarter.
Therefore, if their hopes should be deceived, Juliet
will doubtless in time return to the stage."

"And all that love-affair with Lord Frederick
liavenscliffe," continued Melissa, " is broken off
long ago ? Did I not prophesy, Ellen, that it
would turn to deception or disappointment for
poor Juliet ? I long to see her ! She must think
it unkind that I have remained for so many
months away from the house : but as you a&d
charged me not to mention to a soul that I have
received anything from your purse, I purposely
abstained from visiting that house where the very
first thing my feelings of gratitude would prompt
me to proclaim is the immensity of the obligation
I owe to you."

" Now that you are about to return to the
stage," I answered, "you will again be thrown in
the way of the Normans and of your other friends.
But it is utterly needless, Melissa, for you to
speak of the little services which I have been so
rejoiced to render you."

"To-morrow evening, dearest Ellen, we shall
meet at the theatre," said Miss Harrison, with a
smile deprecatory of any fresh remonstrance or
reproach on my part : " for to tell you the truth,
I have already communicated with Mr. Bichards;
and he is delighted to have me back again. It
just happened that he required a le&ding figurante
for his new ballet; and I am to have the situation,
with a liberal salary."

I now took leave of Melissa, and returned to
Hunter Street, — where, on my arrival, I found
Lady Lilla Essendine's equipage waiting at tho
front door. The servant informed me that her
ladyship was in the drawing-room, and that as my
speedy return home was expected, she had re-
mained to see me. I had foreseen this visit — but
was annoyed that it should now be paid. I loathed
Lady Lilla Essendine : her exquisite beauty and
ber seeming amiabilities were to my view a mask
concealing the hideousness and the venom of a
reptile. As for all her former kindnesses towards
xne, I heartily wished that they had never been
shown ; and as for the presents I had received
from her, I was most anxious for a pretext to re-
turn them. Conscious that I had a difficult part
to play — and scarcely knowing how I should per-
form it — I proceeded to the drawing-room, where
I found her alone ; for be it recollected that she
had not sought the acquaintance of the Normans.

Lady Lilla started up from her seat with her

wonted air of cordial friendliness : but avoiding the
hand which I feared was stained with crime, I
passed on in such a way as to place the centre-
table between us; and with a cold look sat down.

I " Good heavens, Ellen 1" she exclaimed, with an

I air of astonishment, " what means this reserve

j towards me ? — how can I possibly have offended

i you?"

I " One who is in any way leagued with Captaia

j St. Clair," I responded, " cannot possibly be a,

I welcome visitress to me."

j Lady Lilla became ghastly pale ; and she trem-
bled from head to foot : but almost immediately

. recovering her self-possession, she said, " I leagued
with Edwin St. Clair ! What mean you, Miss

I Percy ?" — and she looked indignant.

I " I do not pretend to know everything," I

I answered : " but this I am aware of — that despite

. the enmity which exists between you, there is in
some sense a terrible identity of interests. The

. symbol at which St. Clair trembled, when pre-
sented by my hand, had a talismanic power for
Lady Lilla Essendine when sent from the hand of
a gipsy ; and no doubt the words which lately

i overawed that unprincipled man, would have tho
same effect upon her ladyship !"

j "Ellen, what mean you ?" exclaimed Lady Lilla,
much excited and agitated. " Give me your con-

I fidence ! I have a right to demand it 1 Tell me
what new things have come to your knowledge —

and I will speedily explain "

" Ob, Lady Lilla !" I ejaculated, " how can you
explain that which, I fear, would only incriminate
yourself ? Ask me no more ! I will say nothing

unless it be to bid you look down deep into

your own conscience "

" Ellen !" ejaculated Lilla, " I insist upon ex-i
planations !" — and so altered was her voice from
its wonted silver clearnees — so hoarse and gasping
was it — so distorted too was that countenance
whose natural beauty was so surpassing and so
exquisite, that for an instant I was affrighted.
" Yes," she continued, growing more vehement as
she fancied that she overawed me; "our meeting
shall not terminate thus ! There has hitherto
existed confidence between us ; and it shall not be
suspended now ! What enemy has been at work
to prejudice you against me — to fill your mind
with suspicions — I know not what ? Speak, Ellen I
speak ! I arijure — I command you!"

" No, Lady Lilla," I exclaimed : " I am not to
be ruled by your imperious sway. I mean you no
harm : but our friendship is at an end ! Your own
demeanour now would justify that decision on my
part, even if nothing else did ! I repeat, I mean

you no harm "

"Ellen!" interrupted Lady Lilla, "not to be
my friend, is to be my enemy ! Beware how you
provoke me ! I know a secret connected with

yourself "

"Ah!" I cried, instantaneously comprehending
the allusion : "then this is another proof of your
complete understanding in many respects with St.
Clair. You know that I have a father and that
he is unfortunate : but beware. Lady Lilla, how
you seek by any means to heap additional calami-
ties on his head ! For if by even a whispered
word or a stealthy deed you do aught that shall
mililate against his security or peace of mind, I
will not hesitate, Lady Lilla, to wreak a most ter-

158

ELLEIf PEKCT; ok, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

rible vengeance! I will give to the world a cer-
tain letter— a letter which perhaps you little
imagine to be in existence — but which is never-
theless in my possession!"

Lady Lilla Essendine staggered, and would have
fallen had she not caught at the back of a chair.
Her countenance became as ghastly as that of a
corpse : her lips were livid : her eyes stared upon
me with an expression of dismay and consterna-
tion. I was glad that circumstances had put me
in possession of the means of overawing a woman
from whose countenance the mask was now torn
away, and who stood revealed to me in all the
blackness of her natural character.

"Ellen, that letter?" she at length said, in a
low hoarse voice : and she advanced a pace or two

towards me : " that letter, Eilen how came it

in your possession ?"

I was on the point of cutting short the colloquy,
—when thinking that it would be better to make
the blow which I had just stricken as decisive as
possible, I resolved to give some little explana-
tion.

" The machinations of the wicked," I answered,
" are often turned by the hand of providence into
weapons against themselves. Had St. Clair never
carried me off to his house, I should not have
found that letter in the drawer of a toilet-table at
that dwelling. Such however was the fact; — and
the letter was written by you. Lady Lilla Essen-
dine ! Again I bid you look down into your own
conscience — and you will there read in imperish-
able letters the crimes to which those burning,
half- frenzied lines of your's bore such awful allu-
sion ! And, Oh ! that scream which last night
pealed from your lips! — it was the involuntary
and irresistible expression of a guilty conscience
in its agonies ! Now I have said enough. If
you be acquainted with a secret of mine, you per-
ceive that I have a terrible knowledge of a secret
of your's !"

" For heaven's sake spare me, Ellen !" said
Lady Lilla, making a movement as if she would
8 nk on her knees before me; while indescribable
were the workings of horror, anguish, and dismay
upon her countenance. " Give me that letter — I
implore you to give it to me! There shall be
peace between us — <— "

" I keep that letter, my lady," I answered, " as
a guarantee of peace 1 Edwin St. Clair has al-
ready on many occasions proved himself my
enemy ; and you. Lady Lilla, just now threat-
ened to become so. Think you, then, that under
Buch circumstances I will part from that document
which henceforth to me shall serve as a weapon
alike defensive and offensive? No, Lady Lilla ! —
circumstances compel me to retain it!"

" Ah ! is it so ?" was the low but quickly uttered
ejaculation which fell fro a her ladyship's lips; and
at the same instant I caught the changing expres-
sion of her countenance: for quick as the light-
ning-flasb, it altered from an air of anguish and
dismay to one of resolute and fiend-like wicked-
ness.

What then passed was likewise the work of an
instant: for Lady Liila Essendine, thrusting her
hand beneath the folds of her scarf, drew forth a
white artificial flower ; and with one pace forward
— or rather with a sort of spring— she applied it
to my nostrils. There was a momentary sensation

of dizziness, — the room appearing to whirl round;
and I fell down deprived of consciousness.

I subsequently knew by a reference to the time-
piece that I must have been about a quarter of an
hour in a dead swoon, before I began to awaken
from my insensibility. Then for some minutes
tiiere was a sensation as if I were slowly arousing
' from a troubled dream — experiencing an impos-
sibility to separate the real from the unreal, and
I to extricate my thoughts from the half-numbed
i confusion into which they had been thrown. I
I felt an exceeding heaviness in the head — a con-
I tinued dizziness of the brain— a half-suffocating
I sensation, as if I had awakened from a trance to
find myself buried in a coffin. At length I raised
j myself painfully ; and there being some perfume
in a smelling-bottle upon the table, I poured a
quantity on my kerchief, and therewith bathed my
forehead. The relief I experienced was instanta-
neously great; and considerably strengthened, I
passed into the back drawing-room, the window of
which I opened. The cold breeze of February
fanned my countenance, affording still greater re-
lief. In a few minutes I was completely restored,
with the exception of a slight headache, — which
however soon passed away.

As I hastily reflected upon all that had taken
place, the thought struck me that Lady Lilla Es-
sendine had purposely thrown me into a swoon
that she might visit my chamber and ransack my
writing-desk in the hope of finding the document
which I had refused to surrender up. I therefore
hastened to my bed-room : but nothing was there
disturbed. I looked in the desk, and found that
fragment of a letter which I had brought with me
from St. Clair's house ; it was quite safe, in a secret
drawer where I had deposited it. On making
this discovery, which was so contrary to my expec-
tations, I was at first bewildered — until a fearful
suspicion began stealing into my mind. As I re-
flected upon everything that had just taken place,
past incidents came trooping into my memory—
until at length, shuddering and appalled, I was
brought to the horrible conviction that it was no
temporary swoon into which that fiend-like woman
had sought to throw me— but that it was the
eternal sleep of death into which she had purposed
to plunge me !

Yes — there could be no doubt of it !— it was a
murder that she had attempted ! Ah, did I not
now comprehend full well what was meant by
smelling the white rose and sleeping the sleep of
death ? St. Clair was a murderer : Lilla Essen-
dine was a murderess ! But who had been their
victim ? I had my suspicion : but of that no
matter now. Ob, no wonder that a white rose was
fraught with such terrific magical power for both !
—for a deadly venom had been infused into that
flower by which their victim's life was taken some
while back, and by which within the passing hour,
the murderess had sought to take my own! But
I have said that incidents of the past were now
brought freshly back to my mind. Could I fail to
recollect that phial in the filagree case, which I
had seen on Lady Lilla's mantelpiece in the
chamber at Claremont Villa ? Did I not remem-
ber how it had been dashed from my hand — by the
accident of a convulsive movement, as I thought
at the time— but by the horrifying and startling
dread of becoming the victim of her own subtle

BULBN PERCY J OS, THE IklEMOIKS OF AIT ACTEESS.

159

poison, as I now full well comprehended ! No
wonder that on that occasion she should have been
in sufii a hurry to have the broken glass swept up
and the fluid dried from off the carpet with a
brush !— and no wonder that her pet spaniel should
liave been found dead under her bed ; for doubt-
less the poor animal had lapped up the poison with
its toonue aud had thus been stricken down life-
less. Oh ! my mind had now a horrible clearness ;
and I read as with the ghastly glare of the
lightning-flashes, the tremendous secrets and mys-
teries that pertained to the dark career of Edwin
St. Clair aud Lady Lilla Essendine.

It was only too evident likewise that the gipsies
must to a certain extent be conscious of those
crimes : they must at least be acquainted with the
secret of the white rose impregnated with a deadly
venom. But how had I escaped with my life?
Oh ! I shuddered from head to foot as I thought
of the fearful danger that I must have passed
through — the stupendous peril that I must have
escaped. And I failed not to send up from the
depths of my heart a prayer of thanksgiving unto
Leaven for thus having saved me 1

But how had I been saved ? "Was it that the
artificial flower was too little impregnated with
the poison to prove entirely fatal ? — was it that the
flower had not been held long enough to my nos-
trils to work its deadliest eff'ect ?— or was there
some resisting power in the strength of my consti-
tution ? Methought that perhaps the real truth
might be found in the blending of all these hypo-
theses: but however it might be, I did not shudder
the less coldly when thinking of what I had gone
through — nor was my gratitude the less fervid for
the escape I had experienced.

It was clear enough that Lady Lilla Essendine
had fancied the work of murder to be effectually
done, and that she had quitted the house without
exciting any suspicion that she was leaving it
ui'der any other circumstances than those of an
ordinary character. Doubtless, if her diabolic plan
had succeeded, my death would have been attri-
buted to apoplexy or the sudden visitation of G-od ;
and perhaps Lady Lilla would have come forsvard
at the inquest to declare that she had left me a
few minutes previously in perfect health and in
my usual spirits. Oh, what a fieud was that
woman ! But amidst my meditations I likewise
reflected it was clear no one had entered the
drawing-room while I remained in a swoon after
Lilla's departure. Mr. and Mrs. Norman were out ;
and Julid was in her own chamber. Thus the en-
tire incident was known but to Lady Lilla and
myself; and beneath a roof where passers-by sus-
pected not at the moment that any thing uausual
was taking place, a most stupendous crime had been
all but perpetrated.

I remained for some time giving way to my
thoughts in the solitude of my own chamber.
What course should I adopt ? Should I tell every
thing to my friends, and proceed with them to a
magistrate to invoke the aid of the law against the
woman who had attempted my life ? No : for from
this course I was withheld by several considera-
tions. In the first place, it would be necessary
that I should frankly reveal all St. Clair's past
couduct towards me ; aud a sense of modesty —
almost amounting to shame — disinclined me to
produim to the world how I had jjasscd an entire

night on one occasion, and a portion of another on
a second occasion, beneath the roof of that liber-
tine's dwelling. Again, I reflected that if I
assumed the attitude of an open enemy in respect
to Lady Lilla — thereby at the s^me time impli-
cating St. Clair — they in their vindictive despera-
tion would proclaim the terrible secrets connected
with my father ; aud though be had found a safe
asylum in France, yet would an intolerable odium
and a withering disgrace overtake him there.
Lastly, I thought that the whole story in respect
to the poisoned flower — particularly the attempt
just made upon my own life — would be looked
upon as so incredible— especially when the distin-
guished social positions of Captain St. Clair and
Lady Lilla Essendine were taken into considera-
tion,— that not merely the magistrate, but likewise
the whole world, would set me down as the victim
of an extraordinary hallucination. Thus, every
thing duly weighed, I determined to add the new
incident to the stock of those secrets which my
mind already harboured.

My resolve being thus taken, I made a package
of the various presents I had received from Lady
Lilla Essendine ; and I despatched the parcel at
once by a messenger to her ladyship's abode in the
neighbourhood of the Kegent's Park. I sent there-
with no letter: I preferred that the intelligence
of the failure of her diabolic scheme should reach
her through the simple medium of the restoration
of those articles. What her wonderment and her
alarm must have been when the packet was deli-
vered into her hands, I must leave my readers to
conjecture : for I myself was left only to bare sur-
mise upon the point.

CHAPTEE XXX.

A STBANGE TISITBESa.

Os the evening of the following day, I reappeared
as Lady Macbeth ; and in the ballet which con-
cluded the performances, Melissa Harrison took
the leading part. When Juliet was engaged at
the theatre, Melissa was second only to her as Q.
danseuse s and now she was without either a
superior or an equal. She was a favourite with
the public ; and her reappearance after so long a
secession was welcomed with much applause. In-
deed, she danced almirablyj and as I have already
hinted, she looked handsomer than ever. She
seemed to be in the enjoyment of the most vigo-
rous health : the fancy-costume whijh she wore,
set-off her fine, tall, well-developed shape to the
utmost advantage ; and thus she was certain to
obtain the plaudits of all the male beholders. Her
triumph was complete ; and I was infinitely re-
joiced : for inasmuch as her resolve of returning
to the stage had been carried out, all that I could
now wish her was the ability to command a hand-
some remuneration from Mr. Richards' treasury.

Juliet was at the theatre, in one of the stage-
boxes ; and I had waited on this occasion to wit-
ness the ballet, though my usual custom was to
return home immediately after the performance of
my own part, Juliet came to my room when the
curtain fell ; and warm were the greetings which
took place between herself and Miss Harrison.
Presently Mr, and Mrs. Norman joined us ; and

IGO

ELLEN PEHCT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AS ACTRESS.

tbat kind hearted couple insisted that Melissa
f'aould accompany us home to supper. She could
not refuse; and thus we all five crowded ourselves
into the carriage as best wo could.

It was about half-past eleven o'clock when we
reached Hunter Street; and the moment the car-
riage stopped at the door, the footman (who had
not f.ccompanied it) came forth; for he had a piece
of intelligence to announce.

"If you please, sir," he said, " a lady is waiting
to see you."

" To see us all, you mean ?" exclaimed Mr.
Norman, fancying that it must be some regular
visitress at the house. "But who is she ?

" I do not know," answered the footman ; " for
the lady would give no name. She came at about
eight o'clock — I said you were all gone to the
theatre— and she declared that she would wait. I
told her that it might be late when you returned
—than you would then have supper "

""^ell, well," interrupted Mr. iXorman, some-
what impatiently.

" The lady then said, sir, that she would wait
for supper. She asked in which room the family
usually supped ; and when I told her, she walked
straight in— sat herself down — and I don't think
she has ever once moved from her chair for more
than three hours."

" This is most singular !" said Mr. Norman, in
a tone of bewilderment. " But what sort of a
person "

"Dear me!" interrupted Mrs. Norman ; "had
we not better get out and see ? Here we are,
sitting as crowded as possible ■"

" I am afraid I have been one too many," ex-
claimed Melissa, tripping lightly out of the car-
riage.

" By no means, my dear girl 1" answered Mrs.
Norman ; " and you shall not be disappointed of
your supper— nor we of your society — for all the
strange visitresses in the world. Come, let us go
in."

We descended from the carriage. Juliet, Me-
lissa, and myself would have retired to another
room, while Mr. and Mrs. Norman proceeded to
ascertain who was the unknown friend : but they
would not consent to such a proceeding. We there-
fore hastily threw off our bonnets and shawls in
the breakfast-parlour ; and we then followed Mr.
Norman to the dining-rootD, where the table was
spread for supper. I believe that we were all
more or less inspired with curiosity as to who the
visitress could b« ; while no one entertained the
slightest suspicion of the actual truth.

As we entered the dining-room in a body, we
beheld an old dame, with a sallow wrinkled coun-
tenance, fixed penetrating eyes, and a mouth
pursed up in a manner that gave a cross, ill-
natured, almost spiteful expression to the whole
face. Though she remained seated— (and she sat
as upright, too, as if she were a wooden effigy
without the least suppleness in her body) — it was
easy to perceive that she was tall, gaunt, and ex-
cessively thin. She wore a black silk gown — a
large old fashioned shawl of a quiet pattern — and
an immense black bonnet, shaped like a coal-
scuttle, and looking very much like one. Her
kerchief peeped out of a somewhat capacious bag
or reticule, which was slung by its strings over her
left wrist : she had taken ofi' her gloves : and her

withered hands were half concealed by a pair of
thick worsted mittens. Her age could not bo less
than sixty, — though a black false front concealed
the silver of her hair.

Such was the sort of apparition that met the
view of us all as we entered the room. For more
than three mortal hours had she remained there
in her bonnet and shawl ; so that it seemed as if
she had been determined to wait for us, no matter
at what hour we might have returned home. She
did not rise from her seat on our entrance — but
slowly turned round and fixed her penetrating
eyes upon us, as if to embrace us all at once with
the range of that scrutinising survey, Mr. and Mrs.
Norman advanced a few paces, and then stopped
short — much embarrassed : for they naturally
deemed it singular that the lady did not announce
her name nor her business. At length she herself
spoke.

'•'Tou are Mr. Norman?" she said; "and you
are Mrs. Norman," — pointing from one to tha
other; and her voice was severe and cold.

" I am Mr. Norman," was the response given
by the master of the house; "and this is Mrs.
Norman."

" I said so — didn't I ?" interjected the old lady:
and then, as if feeling that she had a perfect right
to play the part of a catechist, she demanded,
" But who are these three girls? — JTou, however,
must be Juliet Norman ? You are like your

mother yes, and not unlike your father too.

But who are these ?" — and now she pointed
towards Melissa and myself.

" This is Miss Trafford," answered Mr. Nor-
man;— "at least such is her name upon the
stage "

" Ob, that is Miss Trafford, the celebrated
actress— eh ?" said the singular old woman, some-
what disdainfully. " And that girl r"

" Tuis young ladj/," responded Mr. Norman
impatiently, "is Miss Harrison."

'•'Ah! Miss Harrison, the dancer?" said tl'e
dame. "A pretty society I find myself in! Per-
haps you can furnish me with a part to enact, Uj-
morrow or next day ?"

" You already seem, madam, to be performing
so strange a part," said Mr. Norman, " that if I
did not entertain the charitable idea that you are
not altogether in your senses "

" I do indeed begin to think that I mucit have
taken leave of tbem," exclaimed the old lady,
querulously, " to have come here !"

"In that case, madam," said Mr. Norman,
" there is not the slightest necessity for you to
remain here."

" Oh, I dare say not ! Indeed, I know it very
well," said the dame, now slowly rising from her
seat ; and as she drew her gaunt form completely
upright, she appeared to be even taller than I
thought she was when still seated.

" Eeally, madam," resumed Mr. Norman, "this
conduct "

" Poor thing ! she is mad !" whispered Mrs.
Norman deprecatingly to her husband: but her
words were not spoken in so subdued a tone as to
fail in reaching the keen ears of the singular
visitress.

" Yes— mad I must have been," she exclaimed,
"to have come all the way from Dover to ex*
perience such a reception as this !"

ELLBN PEECr; OE, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTKES3

"Good heavens !— Mrs. Oldcastle ! iny dear
aunt !" ejaculated Mr. Norman, rushing forward.

" Is it possible "

" Goodness gracious ! who would have thought
it?" cried Mrs. Norman, likewise springing to-
wards the wealthy relative.

" Mrs. Oldcastle!" ejaculated Melissa Harrison,
but in a subdued voice— though she was seized
with a natural amazement. " Why, I thought
you knew her, Julie— and that you had been to
stay with her ?"

•" Hush, Melissa !" I said : " do not speak of it
now !"— for I saw that poor Juliet was seized with
confusion.

" There 1 that will do !" now broke in the severe
tones of Mrs. Oldcastle : and what she meant was
that she had unbent quite enough in submitting
to the sort of half-theatrical embrace which Mr.
and Mrs. Norman bestowed upon her in their
turns. "Come, Juliet — you and I must know
Ko. 21.— Ellen Vsvlcy

each other now— and we may perhaps know each
other better.— It was all for the sake of your girl,"
added Mrs. Oldcastle, looking at Mr, and Mrs.

Norman, " that I determined but no matter.

Come, kiss me, girl !"

Juliet, still full of confusion, went forward, the
colour coming and going in rapid transitions upon
her cheeks ; and the old lady, laying a hand upon
each shoulder, contemplated her earnestly for
upwards of a minute.

" There now !" she said, at length kissing her
upon the forehead : " you need not be frightened
— I am not an ogress come to eat you : but I ara
a relation of whom I daresay you have heard speak
—though you never before saw me and perhaps
never expected to see me. You are really a fine
girl : but beauty, after all, is vanity, both in itself
and in the sentiment it encourages.— So you nre
Miss TrafTord ?" continued Mrs. Oldcastle, i.ow
beckoning mo towards her.

162

ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES 05 AN ACTEESS.

" Since you are a relation of the familj, madam,"
I answered, " there is no harm in letting you know
that my real name ia Percy."

" Percy ! Percy !" ejaculated the dame, all her
frigidity suddenly giving way to agitation and
excitement, so that I was startled and astonished :
but quickly regaining her cold self-possession, she
muttered, "No — it is impossible!" — yet she con-
tinued to look very hard at me with her fixed
penetrating eyes.

"Miss Percy is a very dear young friend of
ours, aunt," interjected Mr. Norman ; " and as
she is as good as she is talented, we are as proud
of her as if she were our daughter."

" TVell, well," said the dame ; " I daresay she is
a gopd girl enough. And that other one ?" point-
ing to Melissa.

"Though there be a prejudice existing, almost
to the extent of a stigma, against the theatrical
profession," said Mr. Norman, " I am proud to
declare that we receive none but persons of un-
doubted reputation ; and amongst these friends
wo reckon Miss Biiirtison."

Melissa stooped ^o pick up the kerchief whic^ she
let fall as if by accident— thpugh I knew very
well that it was intentionally done as a means to
veil the sudden confusion into which that speech
of Mr. Norman had necessarily though so unsus-
pectingly thrown her : for be \t remembered that
only I myself va^ acquainted wit^b Melissa's frailty.
■V^hen she again raised her countenance, it was
with a pajm self-possessioq : — a mompijt had been
siffficient for her to regain complete control over
hefself.

" Well, Miss B!arrison," said Mrs. Oldcastle,
shaking hands with her as she had done with me,
"I da^resay fhat you may be a very good kind of a
girl, although a dancer. However, I shall perhaps
have an opportunity of knowing you all better. I
mean to stay a few days in London for that
purpose."

" And you will make oiw house your home, dear
aunt ?" said Mr. Norman — an invitation that was
instantaneously echoed by his spouse.

" No, I thank you," said the dame curtly.
" Suppers at midnight would not suit me. I came
up to London to see you ; and therefore I should
have waited all night for that purpose. But now
that my object is accomplished, I shall take my
departure. Ring and order me a cab."

" At least, dear aunt, you will stay and take
some supper on the present occasion ?" urged Mr.
Norman, his wife echoing the invitation with equal
fervour.

Nothing however could induce the old lady to
remain: but she intimated that she should return
on the morrow to pass the entire day. She then
took her departure in the cab that was procured
according to her request. For some little while
after she was gone, Mr. and Mrs. Norman were
so full of the unexpected visit which had been
paid them, that they did not notice how pensive
Juliet looked : nor did they seem to recollect that
Melissa Harrison must naturally be astonished at
everythin;^ which had just occurred after the
rumour that was so industriously spread a few
monihs back to the effect that Juliet was invited
to pass a short time with her wealthy relative at
Dover. At length Juliet, pleading headncb, left
the room : and Melissa whispered to me, " I see

that there is some little family secret somewhere
or another. But I am not curious, dear Ellen —
and I ask not for explanations."

She then rose from her seat, bade us farewell,
and hurried away.

" By the bye," said Mr. Norman, when she was
gone, "Melissa must have.thought it strange "

" Rest assured," I interrupted him, " that she
will not ask any impertinent questions. But other
difficulties may arise from Mrs. Oldcastle's pre-
sence in London. All your friends and visitors
have been led to believe that Juliet passed some
little while with her : they may allude to it before
Mrs. Oldcastle when they call at the house "

" Truly !" said Mr. Norman ; " that is the dis-
advantage of telling a falsehood, even as a matter
of necessity ^nd in a very venial manner. It is
sure in the long run to produce its inconveniences.
There is only one alternative — and that is to deny
ourselves to all our friends and usual visitors
during the time that Mrs. Oldcastle is at the
house."

" That is indeed the only plan," I said : but I
had my misgivings lest complications should ariso
from the inopportune presence of Mrs. Oldcastle
in London.

I repaired to Juliet's chamber : I found her
unhappy and desponding. She spoke to me of
Melissa; and I gave her precisely the same as-
surance which I had already given to her parents,
in respect to Miss Harrison's freedom from imper-
tinent curiosity.

" But still she must consider it str^pge, Ejlen !"
said poor Juliet. " Some suspicion may be ex«
cited; and when once any such idea enters the
brain, it soon furnishes a clue ! I allude not now
especially to Melissa— but to other persons who
may come to the house "

" Your parents have determined to deny them-
selves to all visitors whenever Mrs, Oldcastle is
here," I interjected.

" But the servants, Ellen ?" resutued Juliet
"they must think it exceedingly strange that the
aunt whom I was supposed to visit a few months
ago, should come hither as a stranger. And then
too —in another month or six weeks I must leave
homo— I shall be no longer able to conceal my
position — and the very pretest which was to serve
me when the time should come, can now no longer
be thought of !"

" And why not, Juliet ?" I asked. " Mrs. Old-
castle is not likely to remain long in London;
nor is it probable that she will very soon repeat
her visit. When once she shall have returned
home, the pretext will hold as good as ever it
did."

"Oh, in what perils am I involved! — what
misery, what utter misery has that fatal love of
mine plunged me into !" — and Juliet gave way to
her lamentations.

I said everything I could to console her; and at
length finding that she was more tranquil, I left
her,— retiring to my own chamber.

On the following morning, immediately after
breakfast, Mrs. Oldcastle arrived at the house.
Her manner was sufficiently friendly, without be-
ing at all cordial : she seemed naturally cold and
severe : indeed I scarcely knew what to think of
her — whether it were possible for such a woman to
possess a good heart at all. Mr. and Mrs. Norman

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OE AW ACTKESS.

163

received her with the wonted frankness of their
hospitality, mingled with a certain degree of re-
spect ; while JuHet endeavoured to appear gay and
cheerful. The old lady had brought her knitting ;
and though the day was a fine one, she said not a
syllable of going out — nor did she express any de-
sire to visit " London sights," — though, as she in-
formed us, many and many a long year had elapsed
since the last time she was in the metropolis. She
seemed resolved to pass the entire day in-doors, so
that she might have all the better opportunities of
becoming well acquainted with the family whom
she had so long ignored, and to whom she had
with so much eccentric abruptness introduced her-
self. To Juliet she spoke in a somewhat kinder
tone than to her parents or to me : for to ws her
demeanour was only that of polite civility, — a
civility, too, that was shown after her own peculiar
fashion. During the first few hours that we all
sat together in the. drawing-room, I noticed
that Mrs. Oldcastle, while appearing to be intent
upon her knitting, was several times contemplating
Juliet furtively, and surveying her indeed with the
most scrutinizing attention. I trembled for my
poor friend's secret; and I dreaded lest its dis-
covery by the keen eyes of the old lady should
alienate from the Norman family that wealth which
under favourable circumstances they might hope to
inherit at her death.

It was just about luncheon-time, that a loud
double knock at the front door resounded through
the house; and Mrs. Oldcastle, lifting her eyes
from oflf her work, said to Mr. Norman, " Visitors
are arriving."

"They will not disturb us, my dear aunt," he
replied ; " for I have given orders that we are not
at home to any one."

" Indeed, then you have done very wrong," re-
sponded Mrs. Oldcastle, " ii -ou have acted thus
on my account ; for I would i her see your friends
than prove the cause of tht.r keeping away. I
therefore insist that you counter-order the instruc-
tions you have given to your domestics, and that
whosoever calls may be admitted."

"But we thought, my dear aunt," said Mr.
Norman, hesitating and stammering, " that it
would be more agreeable if we were to enjoy each
other's society "

" I am not so foolish," interrupted Mrs. Old-
castle, " as to imagine that my society can be very
delightful to any of you — especially to these girls.
Therefore, without another word, pray let my
wishes be attended to ; or else I shall take my de-
parture,"

The old lady spoke positively ; and it was not
diffisult to comprehend that she was desirous not
only to make herself acquainted with the disposi-
tions and characters of her relatives, but that she
was likewise resolved to see in what manner they
lived and what sort of company they kept. Mr.
Norman was forced to ring the bell, and desire the
servant to show up all visitors who might call.

" It was Mr. Richards who came just now, sir,"
said the footman. " I told him you were all out—
and he said he would come back again."

" That is the lessee of the theatre," said Mr.
Norman to his aunt.

" I should very much like to see him," ehe re-
sponded, with a certain dryness.

In about an hour the double knock again rever-

berated through the house ; and in a few momenta
Mr. Richards was announced. He was very hand-
somely dressed — for he had evidently been making
a round of morning calls ; and he glided into the
room with the easy familiarity of established
friendship.

" So at last I am fortunate in finding you all at
home !" he said. " I had a little business to speak
of; and therefore I was resolved to come back.
But "

Hero he stopped short, looking at the old lady.

"This is my aunt— Mrs. Oldcastle," said Mr.
Norman, eflFecting the introduction with a reluc-
tance that was all but visible to those who were
thus introduced. " Mr. Eichards— Mrs. Old-
castle."

"Proud to make Mrs. Oldcastle's acquaint-
ance !" said Mr. Eichards, gliding towards the
old lady, and proffering his hand, from which he
hastily withdrew the lemon-coloured kid glove. " I
have heard of you before, my dear madam. Ah !
you were the means of taking away from me the
very best dansewse that ever appeared on my
boards ■ "

" I, Mr. Eichards ?" exclaimed the old lady,
with unfeigned surprise.

" Nonsense, nonsense, Eichards !" said Mr.
Norman, winking and making signs to the lessee.
" No professional matters here !"

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Oldcastle quietly, "Mr.
Eichards has called expressly on some professional
business ; and if so, I beg that he will not stand
upon any ceremony on «ny account. He may
speak out before me ; and if not, it is very clear
that I must be one too many beneath this roof."

" Nothing can be kinder, madam, than your ob-
servation," said Mr. Eichards. "To speak the
trutb, it was about a little professional business
that I called.— You saw, Norman," he continued,
turning to Juliet's father, " how successful the new
ballet was last night. It was a hit : but it may
be made a greater hit still.— There are degrees,
madam, in all these things," he added, turning
towards the old lady, to whom, with no doubt a
well meant purpose, he studied to make himself
agreeable, as a visitor of the Normans, and there-
fore for the Normans' sake.

"Precisely so, Mr. Eichards," answered Mrs.
Oldcastle. " I am glad, sir, that my presence is not
a restraint upon the frankness of your discourse."

" Oh, quite the contrary, my dear madam !"
exclaimed Mr. Eichards. "As I was saying, there-
fore, the new ballet— though already a hit— may
be made a greater hit still. Miss Harrison ac-
quitted herself most admirably last night: but
still. Miss Norman, she does not come up to you.
I was thinking therefore — unless the aunt has an
insuperable objection" — and here he turned with a
bland deprecating smile towards Mrs. Oldcastle, —
" I was thinking, I say, that if your talented
niece would only accept an engagement, I would
give her the handsomest salary "

Juliet, who I saw had been hanging to the
tenterhooks of uneasiness and suspense, here broke
in, with an abruptness which savoured of rude-
ness, and was indeed most unusual with her.

"One word is sufiicient, Mr. Eichards!" she
said. " I decline to return to the stago— at least
for the present."

" There, my dear madam ! see what you have

164

EllEN PERCY) OR, THE MEMOrRS OP AV ACTRESS.

done !" esclaimed Mr. Richards, endeavouring to
conceal his vexation beneath the air of gaj re-
proach with which he addressed the aunt. " It is
all your fault; and I must conjure jou to with-
draw an injunction which, as you perceive, deprives
mj ballet of its brightest ornament."

"1 can assure you, Mr. Eichards," responded
Mrs. Oldcastle, "that I have issued uo injanction
to any such effect, I have not presumed to inter-
fere with Mr. Norman's arrangements on behalf of
himself, his wife, or his daughter."

" No, no, my dear aunt," interposed Mr. Nor-
man, " you have been very kind and good ; and as
for the proposition Mr. Richards has just made us
in respect to Juliet, we will think it over."

" G-ood ! that will do !" ejaculated the lessee :
" and I feel convinced that my views will not ex-
perience opposition on the part of Mrs. Oldcastle."

The manager then bowed and retired. When

be discovered by her whose name was usc.l upou
the occasion. When Mrs. Oldcastle took her leave
— which she did at about halt'-past eight o'clock —
she intimated that she should not revisit the house
on the following day, but that she should pass the
one next ensuing altogether there. When she was
gone, we talked over the incidents of the dar.- and
Mr. and Mrs. Norman expressed their coni'SjJion
that great and sigual advances had been made in
the favourable opinion of their wealthy relative.
Such was likewise my impression ; but I saw how
much depended on Juliet's secret being kept safe
until the time should come when there was no
longer any danger of its transpiring.

On the following day Mr. Norman communi-
cated to Mr. Richards, on his daughter's behttltj
her refusal to accept another engagement at the
theatre ; and he was now enabled with bold truth-
fulness to assert that Mrs. Oldcastle had peremp-

the door closed behind him, there was an ominous torily influenced this decision.

silence of a few minutes, — a silence which the old
lady did not seem inclined to break, and upon
which no one else seemed to dare to intrude. It
was a most embarrassing silence. I saw that
Juliet was exceedingly uneasy, and that this feel-
ing was shared by her parents — as indeed it like-
wise was by myself. At length Mrs. Oldcastle,
lifting her eyes from her work, turned towards
Juliet, inquiring, "How long have you seceded
rom the stage ?"

" It must be upwards of five months," Mrs,
Norman hastened to ejaculate — doubtless fearing
that her daughter's confusion might prevent her
from giving any answer at all.

" And what is your objection to return to the
stagtf, my dear ?" inquired Mrs. Oldcastle, in even
a kinder voice than she had yet used when address-
ing Juliet. " Let the girl speak for herself," she
added, glancing quickly upon Mr. and Mrs. Nor-
man.

I saw that Juliet gathered up all her self-
possession with an effort; and she answered with
an air of frankness, '*' I have conceived a distaste
for the stage."

" Indeed !" said Mrs. Oldcastle. " But I hope
that I may give your parents credit for having ab-
stained from forcing your inclination in that re-
spect ?"

" Oh, yes I" exclaimed Juliet, with affectionate
enthusiasm : "they have always been most kind
and good towards me !"

" I am glad you tell me that, my dear," said
Mrs. Oldcastle : and the dark cloud of suspicion
which for a moment had gathered upon her coun-
tenance, now vanished altogether^her features
brightening up indeed, as much as such a face
coulu by any possibility become animated. " In
this case," she added, " the engagement with Mr.
Bichards will not of course take place."

" Certainly not — certainly not, my dear aunt I"
ejaculated Mr. Ncrman, eagerly.

From that moment throughout the rest of the
day, Mrs. Oldcastle's demeanour grew more cordial
towards Mr. and Mrs. Norman ; while towards
Juliet she became almost affectionate — and ex-
ceedingly kind towards myself. Nothing more of
any consequence occurred to revive the apprehen-
sions of poor Juliet that the falsehood which be-
tween five or six months back had been propagated
in respect to the visit to the aunt at Dover, would

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of
this same day— while Mr. and Mrs. Norman were
absent at the theatre, and while Juliet, who felt
indisposed after the excitement of the previous day,
was lying down in her own chamber — that the
footman entered the drawing-room where I was
seated alone, to intimate that a lady desired to
speak to me. I asked what name she had given:
but the footman replied, " The lady. Miss, an-
nounced no name : she said it was useless, as she
is a perfect stranger to you."

" Then let her walk up," I said : but I resolved
to remain upon my guard, for fear of any new
treachery on the part of Lady Lilla Essendine.

In a few moments the visitress was ushered into
my presence; and as she wore a thick black veil,
I could only catch a feeble glimpse of her coun-
tenance : but the impression it made upon me was
most favourable. She was well dressed ; and a
single glance at her attire was sufficient to convince
me that it emanated from some fashionable estab-
lishment where the cost of articles must be held
of no consequence in the estimation of the pur-
chaser. She was not tall, but of the medium
height of woman — with a very slender figure,
proportioned to an exquisite symmetry ; while her
bearing was ladylike and full of natural uus'udied
grace. I rose to receive her. She seemed em-
barrassed how to introduce herself or her business;
— and no longer fearing treachery, I spoke with a
kind encouragement, requesting her to be seated.
She then — as if with a certain effort which was
rendered necessary by a slight remaining reluc-
tance—raised her veil; and I beheld one of the
most interestingly beautiful countenances I had
ever gazed upon. It was not however a face of
dazzling loveliness, nor was it a beauty which
makes the beholder wonder as well as admire:
but, on the contrary, it was an expression of me-
lancholy gentleness and sweet mournfulness which
gave such a pathetic interest to that oval coun-
tenance and those regular features. Delicately
modelled too were those features : the cheeks were
pale ; in a slight degree they were sunken — but so
slightly as not to be hollow nor to give a haggard
look to the face itself. She seemed as if she had
only recently recovered from an illness that had
been caused by some calamity ; and methought
likewise that the sense of this calamity, mellowed
by resignation, was still in the soul, as the linger-

BLLKJr PERCY; OS, THE MBMOIBS OF AN ACTUESa.

165

ing traces of indisposition were also upon the
countenance.

On examining her presently with somewhat
more attention, though not with an intentness to
be perceived, I observed that her complexion was
beautifully fair, and that in its polish it might vie
with the pearl of the sea-shell. Her eyes — not
large, and full of a mournfully serene softness —
were of a grey so deep that in particular lights
their colour might be mistaken for blue. Her
nose was perfectly straight : her mouth, exquisitely
beautiful, must always have had a somewhat seri-
ous and meditative expression ; but I fancied that
the recent circumstances of calamity and illness
which in my imagination I had associated with
this lady, had tended to render its expression still
more pensive. Her age appeared to be about
three-and-twenty J — and I must add that from the
very first instant she raised her veil I was inte-
rested in her whom I am endeavouring to describe.

It was in a soft, clear, and musical voice that
she said to me, " I am afraid, Miss Trafford, you
will deem the step I have taken to be exceedingly
bold, when I explain the object of this intrusion.
I have never heard any one speak of you otherwise
than in your public capacity : but when I have
read in the newspapers that you display so much
deep and genuine feeling in the parts which you
represent, I felt assured that you would receive
me with sympathy and with kindness, even though
in the end you should be unable to assist me in
the way in which I hope for your succour."

There was something exceedingly touching in
the manner in which the lady spoke — something
that went irresistibly to the heart, appealing on
behalf of the speaker with a plaintiveness that at
once enlisted every sympathy and made one long to
be enabled to do her a service. I asked her in
what way I could possibly be of use to her — as-
suring her at the same time of my readiness to
exert my humble endeavours in her cause.

She did not immediately answer — but bent
down her eyes, Methought that with a gasping
effort she stifled a sob ; and at length she said in
a voice of forced firmness, " I wish to go upon the

" To forward this aim," I responded, " there is
much which happily lies in my power. But surely
it is not a matter of taste "

I stopped short ; for the was visibly struggling
with her feelings ; and she said in a low voice,
"No — it is a matter of necessity."

I was surprised : and my looks no doubt dis-
played my astonishment. By her appearance she
seemed to be a lady in independouc circumstances;
though I now noticed that notwithstanding she
was so well dressed, she had not a particle of
jewellery about her person.

" Yes — from necessity," she repeated, now giving
an almost bitter emphasis to her words. " I must
earn my bread — I who once "

Again she stopped short, and appeared to be
wrestling with feelings that were almost over-
powering. I naturally fancied that she was on the
point of alluding to better days and happier times ;
and I thus beheld the realization of my idea that
she had been stricken by a calamity, of which
recent illness was one of the results

" But have you well weighed," I asked, in a
gentle and sympathizing voice, " the step which

you thus propose to take ? P.irdon me if I speak
to you with fraukness. You have experienced re-
cent causes of unhappiness : but the mind of one
who appears before a public audience must bo

nerved "

" Oh ! I have considered all this !" exclaimed
the lady. " I should not exhibit so much weak-
ness now, were it not that I read sympathy ia
your looks; and you must be good and gentle and
kind indeed to feel for woes that are unknown to
you, and the existence of which you merely sus-
pect ! Yes — my mind is made up to embrace the
stage as a means of existence — if I can obtain an

introduction to it "

" Pardon me for interrupting you," I said,
deeply affected by her words and her looks — for it
was a sad thing to hear the syllable tooe come from
the lips of one who was so exquisitely beautiful;
" but perhaps your misfortunes may be only tem-
porary P perhaps for a season — a year or two, for
instance — there might be relief afforded, and you
might be saved the adoption of that idea which
you have seized upon in the belief that it is the

only alternative ? If so "

" A thousand, thousand thanks. Miss Trafford,"
said the fair stranger, her voice musically tre-
mulous with emotions, "for your unmistakable
kindness — your significant generosity ! And think
me not ungrateful if I do not make you altogether
my confidante : but to tell you such a history aa
mine— No, no ! G-ood God ! it is impossible !"

She shivered as she spoke these last words with
a wild and frenzied vehemence ; and for au instant
I was frightened lest her senses were abaudoning
her. But suddenly she became calm once more;
and she said, " Pardon this emotion. Miss IVafford !
I really did not think when entering into your
presence, that I should be thus led away by my
feelings. I had flattered myself that I had ob-
tained sufficient command over them to preserve
a certain degree of equanimity, if not of forti-
tude. And now you will ask me whether I have
any taste for the stage, and what my qualifications
are ? Listen to me for a few moments ! Some
while ago — when I was more happily placed than
I now am" — and here a sudden sigh convulsed her
almost to choking, but in an instant she subdued
it — " there were frequent private theatricals at the
— I mean where I dwelt. My spirits were gayer
then; and I took a part in them. It might have
been on account of my position — I mean to say
that the lenient judgment or well-meant flattery
of friends may have led me to suppose that I was

not altogether without dramatic talent though

heaven knows that I then little thought that the

time would ever come "

Here again she stopped short ; and there was
another struggle against the heartrending grief
which she evidently experienced. I saw that it
was most painful for her to continue the explana-
tions which so vividly reminded her of better days
— peradventure of opulence, of a happy home, and
of a proud position ; and I hastened to say in en-
couraging accents, " The drama therefore, though
hitherto practised for amusement, is not altogether
unfamiliar to you ? I will do my best — I will go
at once, if you wish it, and speak to Mr. Richards,
the lessee of the theatre where I myself have
an engagement. I know that he will listen to
my representations ; and I shall only be too

166

EHEW PEECT; OE, the MKMOIES of an ACTEES8.

Lappy to call upon you to announce the favourable
result."

" Call upon me ?" slie ejaculated, methought
almost in terror : then, as if suddenly recollecting
that she had spoken strangely and wildly, she said,
" Not for the world, Miss Traiford, would I give
you that trouble ! Permit me to call here again to-
morrow to know the result. Or if you would not
xieem it an importunity, I would see you this even-
ing at the theatre "

" Be it so," I said. " Call at the stage-entrance

—send in your name "

"My name?" said the stranger almost va-
cantly : but again catching herself up in the midst
of her painfully wandering thoughts, she cried,
" Yes, I will avail myself of your kindness ; and if
the name of Miss Howard be brought in to you, I
may expect the favour of admission ?"

I replied in the affirmative ; and I was thinking
at the time that the unfortunate lady's disinclina-
tion for me to call upon her at her own residence,
wherever it were, might possibly arise from the
poverty of the abode to which circumstances had
compelled her to retire. I therefore said with con-
siderable diffidence and in as delicate a manner as
possible, " Perhaps you will not be offended with
me if I offer you, Miss Howard, such temporary

assistance as you may require, until "

" No ! no !" she vehemently ejaculated. " But
forgive my abruptness ! Oh, Miss Trafford !"
she added, now bursting into tears, " it is so long
since the voice of sympathy made music in my
brain or awoke the feelings of my heart, that it
sounds strange indeed — and I scarcely know how
to take it ! All that has just occurred between us
must seem most singular to you. I need not ask
whether it be suspicious ; for you with the sub-
limest generosity have treated me as if I were a
sister instead of a stranger. I cannot find words
in which to thank you. But I can pray — Oh,
yes ! I can pray ! — and in my prayers shall you
be remembered !"

She pressed my hand with the most grateful
fervour; drew down her veil, and precipitately left
the room. It had struck me that she spoke of
prayer in that sense in which it is one of the
only resources of the unfortunate ; and this circum-
stance tended to interest me still more deeply in
her favour. Without tarrying for much reflection,
I hastened to my chamber, put on my walking.
apparel, and proceeded to the theatre. My desti-
nation was soon gained : I found that Mr. and
Mrs. Norman had already left ; but I learnt from
a subordinate that Mr. Bichards was in his own
room. The man added that the lessee was en-
gaged with the principal gentlemen of the com-
pany : but as I thought that they could only be in
that room on professional business, I did not hesi-
tate to proceed thither. I knocked at the door ;
and fancying that I was bidden to walk in, I
opened it. But all in a moment my ears were
assailed with such a Babel of human voices, that
if the door when once unfastened had not rolled
wide open of its own accord, I should have retired.
As it was, however, the opening of that door re-
vealed to me the scene that was taking place. All
the principal actors engaged at the theatre — Mr.
Norman excepted — were in violent altercation with
the lessee. No, not exactly wi^A him— but agaiiist
him : for there he sat, in perfect silence,— his head

bent down as if with the air of a man who bows
to suffer the first gush of the hurricane to sweep
over him ere he raises himself up to breast its re-
maining fury when its first violence shall have been
expended. One of the chief performers held in
his hand a manuscript ; and he was indignantly
vociferating, " Is this a part to give to such as
me — I who, if I had my due and if managers had
not conspired against me, should be held equal to
Macready ? And you expect me to perform such
a part as this ? I, sir, to fall down a trap-door
like a clown — to be caught in a blanket by a couple
of drunken carpenters or careless supernumaries !
— not I indeed, sir !"

" And I should like to know, Mr. Eichards,"
exclaimed another gentleman, cocking his hat on
one side of his head, and giving it a smash down
in order to fix it the more tightly there— at the
same time that he assumed the fiercest possible
look, — "and I should like to know, Mr. Eichards,
whether when I engaged with you as a Walking
Gentleman, I was expected to shoulder a musket
as a recruit, play a big drum, and make grimaces
over a mouth-organ ? for that is precisely the part
which is assigned to me in this precious piece !"

"And I, sir," vociferated another, buttoning up
his frock-coat to his very throat, and tucking up
the cuffs, as if he meant to wreak summary chas-
tisement upon the lessee ; " I should like to know,
sir, whether when I engaged with you as a Gen-
tleman for Utility, it was to be condemned to such
vile uses as that to which my part in this piece
would bring me down at last ?"

" Sir— ahem !" said a stout, burly, plethoric
gentleman, with a very red face and grey hair :
" ahem, sir ! I believe, sir — and in believing, sir,
I thinh that I was engaged by you— ahem, sir ! —
through your stage-manager, Mr. Green, as a
Heavy Man. Was it not so, sir ? Ahem, sir ?
Well, sir — then by what singular conglomeration
of circumstances — ahem, sir! by what mystification
of the strangest events and confusion of all ideas
of propriety, is it that I now find myself cast for

a character — a character, sir — ahem, sir "

" Hold your tongue, Arlington !" exclaimed
Mr. Mellicent, now stepping forward and pushing
the Heavy Man aside : " your grievance is nothing
to mine ! Mr. Eichards," he continued, bowing
in a grandiose style of scornful disdain to the
lessee, " would you be good enough to tell me, sir,
why after being insulted by your manager Mr.
Green, humbugged by your property-man Mr.
Sutterby, and accused of being drunk by your base
underling Mr. Tubbs, I should now experience the
crowning degradation at your hands ? I believe,
sir, that it is my avocation to tread the boards of
your theatre as the First Walking Gentleman.

But, sir "

At this moment Mr. Grimshaw, the Clown—
who had been standing a little apart, listening
with comic seriousness to the wrangle — thought it
expedient to alter his position and stand upon his
head, — at the same time making the most hideous
grimaces. The effect was so ludicrous that one
after another, in rapid succession, the ire of the
actors gave way ; laugh upon laugh burst forth—
Mr. Eichards raised his head— and throwing him-
self back in his seat, he joined in that chorus of
cachinnations.

" Come, my good fellows," he exclaimed, when

ELlEjr PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEE88.

167

tbe laughter had subsided — when Mr. Grimsbaw
had resumed his feet— and when Mr. Mellicent
was assuming a most heroic attitude for another
set speech, — " what the deuce do jou all want ?
Tou are like so many hornets. Are you well
treated or not ? Do you ever go away with empty
pockets from the treasury on a Saturday night ?
As for the casts of the piece, they are capital. A
handsome fellow like you, Mellicent, could not
possibly have a better part. You have a soliloquy
of a quarter of an hour— at the end of which
you die with effect. Tou are safe to be encored !
— Come, gentlemen, go to the Green-room ; a dozen
of wine shall follow you ; and at rehearsal to-
morrow you will be all in such good humour with
your parts, that you will be fit to drink another

dozen of wine that is," added Mr. Hichards

aside, " if I am in a humour to give it."

The storm was completely quelled : the words of
promise respecting the wine were like oil thrown
upon the troubled waters. Mr. Mellicent seized
Mr. Bichards by the hand, vowing that he was
the very prince of managers, and that he had al-
ways loved him with an affection scarcely possible
to be exceeded if they had happened to be brothers.
The Heavy Man looked light and gay ; the Gen-
tleman of Utility seemed as if he were by no means
averse to include wine-drinking amongst any other
avocations which, in the general range of his
talents and his Protean qualities, he might be
called upon to fulfil. In a word, all the performers
issued forth from the lessee's room with aspects
wonderfully changed, and declaring with the true
theatrical aside, which was meant for everybody
to hear, that " Mr. Eichards was a capital fel-
low I"

" Sit down, Miss Trafford," said Mr. Eichards,
when the posse had departed. '•' Sorry that you
should have beheld such a scene : but you saw I
knew how to manage them ?"

" I rather think," I said, with a smile, " it was
Mr. Grimshaw who knew how to manage them P"

" Ah ! but it was prearranged," responded the
lessee, chuckling. "I saw the storm was brewing
—I bade Grimshaw be here — I told him what to
do — and that when the brunt of the tempest was
becoming severest, he must come to my rescue. —
But I forgot ! those men want their wine ! After
all, they are good fellows at botttom— and they
shall have it."

Here the manager rang his bell ; and the sum-
mons was answered by the usual underling in at-
tendance.

" Tubbs," he said, with a very serious counte-
nance, and with an ostentatious manner, " the
gentlemen of my company have behaved in a way
to afford me the most cordial satisfaction ; and you
know, Tubbs, that I am always the first to reward
merit. Tubbs, you will take those gentlemen a
dozen of sherry to the Green-room."

"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Tubbs. "The best
sherry, sir ?"

"The best sherry, you scoundrel?" ejaculated
Mr. Eichards, starting as if he could kick him.
" What ! my five- shilling sherry ? Heaven fore-
fend ! No, sir 1 The Cape ! — the Cape at one-
and-three I"

"Very good, sir," answered Mr. Tubbs; and he
forthwith departed to execute the commission thus
confided to him.

" A lessee. Miss Trafford," said Mr. Eichards, as
the door closed behind the underling, " has no
easy part to perform. His is the part behind the
curtain ; and without at all detracting from the
merits by which yourself and others overcome diffi-
culties before the curtain, I think that mine is the
least enviable position. I am a sort of Prime
Minister, filling no specific department, but having
to overlook the departments of all others. A
lessee, Miss Trafford, must, in vulgar parlance, be
wide awake. For instance, at the cost of fifteen
shillings I am about to treat those gentlemen, who
will be as well contented as if, according to the
suggestion of Tubbs, the cost of their regaling
amounted to sixty shillings. And then too. Miss
Trafford, a lessee must have a wonderful capacity
for eating and drinking. He must always be
ready to propose a chop, or a kidney, or broiled
bones, at the tavern over the way, for the behoof
of any individual whom he wishes especially to
conciliate ; and of course there is no eating with-
out plenty of drinking at the same time. — But
while I am chattering here, I forget that you may
be in a hiury ; and now I shall be most happy to
attend to you."

I explained to Mr. Eichards that I was to a cer-
tain degree interested in a young lady named Miss
Howard, who was most anxious to go upon the
stage ; and without entering into any further par-
ticulars, I besought the lessee's good offices as a
personal favour to myself. Mr. Eichards at once
yielded to my solicitation, and made an appoint-
ment for the lady to wait upon him on the follow-
ing day, when he would put her abilities to tho
test, and if she gave any promise at all in the his-
trionic art, he would offer her an engagement. I
thanked him, and took my departure. Oa return-
ing to Hunter Street, I mentioned to the Xor-
mans the visit which I had received from Miss
Howard and the step I had taken in her behalf :
but I said nothing to excite any particular curi-
osity with regard to her.

In the evening I repaired again to the theatre ;
and when the performance was over, I hastened
to my dressing-room in the expectation of receiving
the visit from Miss Howard, to whom I was most
anxious to communicate the hope which the lessee
had held out. My theatrical costume was doffed,
and I had put on my private apparel, before the
message was brought to me, to the effect that
Miss Howard solicited a few minutes' conversation.
I directed that she might be at once introduced to
my room ; and I dismissed the maid, in order that
I might receive her alone. She wore the dark
veil over her countenance : I saw that she was
nervous and trembling, as if with suspense; and
I hastened to relieve her therefrom. When she
heard the intelljgence I had to impart, she caught
my hand, and pressed it to her lips. She was so
overcome with her feelings that I begged her to
sit down and take some refreshment; for there
were wine and biscuits upon a side-table. She
accepted the invitation ; and I could not help
noticing that she ate the biscuits as if she were
actually hungry. I was convinced that she had
been enduring distress ; .and I resolved to make
another effort to induce her to accept some pecu-
niary succour at my hands.

" You are now certain of an engagement. Miss
Howard," I said : " upon this you may rely. But

a week, you know, will elapse before you can apply
to the treasury; and you may have little expenses
to meet. Pray consent to use me as your banker
for your temporary requirements "

She bad raised her veil : she looked up stead*
fastly into my face for a few instants as I thus
spoke ; and then, bursting into tears, she exclaimed,
" Grood God ! you know, then, that I was starv-
ing !"

I was cruelly shocked at this ejaculation ; and
from my own eyes did the tears gush forth. I
placed my purse in her band : but when she heard
the chink of gold, she said with a species of con-
vulsive nervousness, " No, no — not all this !" — and
drawing forth a single sovereign, she laid the purse
upon the table.

" I can only repeat. Miss TraflEbrd, what I said
this morning," she continued, after a brief pause,
— " that I cannot find words sufficient to thank
you for your goodness. I will now retire: and to-
morrow I shall not fail to keep the appointment
with the lessee."

" I will conduct you to the outer door," I said ;
" for I myself am about to return home, as Mr.
and Mrs. Norman will not be ready to leave the
theatre for the next hour."

'We accordingly issued forth together : and when
we reached the stage-entrance, Miss Howard said,
"Here we will part."

She shook me by the hand, and was hastening
away, when the light of a gas-lamp streamed full
upon the countenance of a gentleman who was
passing. I should observe that Miss Howard had
omitted to draw down her veil again, — either from
the confusion of her thoughts, or else because as I
wore none on the occasion, she considered that it
would be discourteous to cover her own face. The
recognition between herself and that gentleman
was mu'ual and instantaneous.

" Ah !" he ejaculated in a voice which seemed to
be filled with anything but joy : " is it you ?"

" Good heavens ! we meet again !" were the
words which quivered from the lips of Frances
Howard : for she bad told me that this was her
Christian name. " Have you thrown yourself in
my way, to renew "

" Silence !" he sternly ejaculated : and I heard
not another syllable — for I retreated within the
doorway, not choosing that Miss Howard should
fancy I purposely lingered to listen.

When I looked forth again, at the expiration of
about a minute, both the lady and the gentleman
had disappeared — I knew not whether in company,
or in dift'erent directions. The carriage was wait-
ing to take me home ; and during the drive thither,
I continued to think of Prances Howard and the
strange mystery that enveloped her. That she
was unhappy, she herself had admitted : but was
her unhappiness connected with that gentleman
whom she had met, evidently by an accident ? And
was there any fault on her side ? — was she in any
way criminal? Oh! was it possible to associate
guilt with that pathetic softness of expression —
with that grateful heart — with those assurances
that she was accustomed to pray to her Maker ?
Ah ! had I not been deceived by the apparently
amiable qualities of Lady Lilla Essendine? — and
was I to become the dupe of another deception
now ? Por a few moments I was shocked and
alllicted with the idea : but speedily repelling it

as most ungenerous and uncharitable, I resolved
to yield my faith to the better side, and to believe
that Prances Howard was merely unhappy, but
not criminal.

While thus refl.ecting, I endeavoured to remem-
ber the outlines and the expression of that mascu-
line cous^aance on which the gas-lamp had shed
its light; --~4he countenance of that gentleman
whom M'lst) Howard had accidentally met. It was
a countenance which, to my knowledge, I had
never seen before ; and I had obtained so transient
a glimpse of it that methought I should scarcely
be enabled to recognise it again. To the best of
my recollection, however, it was the face of a man
of at least forty years of age— dark-complexioned,
even to swarthiness — and with eyes that appeared
to vibrate for an instant with a sinister light. He
was tall J and it struck me that he was well
dressed. More than these few details I cgM not
remember.

CHAPTER XXXI.

AUKT OLDCASILE.

On the following day Mrs. Oldcastle again made
her appearance in Hunter Street; and it was with
an increased cordiality that she returned the greet-
ings of her relatives. She established herself by
the fireside as if it were an old familiar place —
drew forth her knitting — and seemed prepared to
make herself quite at home. Juliet was in better
spirits ; for she had buoyed herself up with the hope
that circumstances would continue to protect her
secret from discovery by the aunt ; and moreover
Mrs. Oldcastle had intimated, shortly after her
arrival on this occasion, that she should most pro-
bably leave London on the following day.

Matters passed on very comfort bly until about
three o'clock in the afternoon, — when a loud double
knock reverberated through the house. A visitor
was arriving ; and in a few minutes a certain Mrs.
Armstrong was announced. This was an elderly
lady who had retired from the stage on a compe-
tency ; she had always borne an unexceptionable
character : she had known the Normans for years ;
and thus she was invariably welcome at the house.
She was a widow, and dearly loved a little bit of
gossip — though she was by no means maliiiously
prone to scandal ; or else her presence would not
have been agreeable to the straight-forward,
honest-hearted Normans.

As a matter of course, she was introduced to
the aunt: but I knew that the Normans must
have felt uneasy ; for it was to this very lady that
the tale of Juliet's pretended visit to Mrs. Old-
castle at Dover was first mentioned at the time.
No sooner, however, was Mrs. Oldcastlo's name
announced, when Mrs. Armstrong exclaimed,
" Well, I am truly delighted to see you here, my
dear madam ! It augurs well — but only fulfils
what we had all along expected I"

" I did not know, madam," said Mrs. Oldcastle
curtly, " that my visit to London could have been
in any way foreseen."

" Certainly not, certainly not !" said Mr. Nor-
man, stammeiinsj, and looking very much con-
fused ; for he was far from being an adept in

ELIiSN PESCT; Olt, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEE8?.

169

duplicity, even tho most venial and innocuous.

" Mrs. Armstrong means that you understand,

aunt your name has often been mentioned by
U8 "

" And pray, my dear madam," broke in Mrs.
Armstrong, whom I was vainly endeavouring to
engage in conversation with myself, — " do you find
our dear Juliet at all altered ? I call her our dear
Juliet, because I have known her ever since she
was a baby;— and 1 have really thought that for
the last few weeks she has scarcely looked so well
as she did -"

" Mrs. Armstrong, shall I order up luncheon ?"
interjected Mr. Norman, who was evidently almost
driven to despair.

" A glass of wine and a biscuit ?" quickly added
Mrs, Norman : and she was hastening to ring the
bell as the only means of creating a diversion from
the perilous strain of the discourse, when Mrs.
Oldcastle quietly interposed.

« No. 22.— Ellen Pbecy.

" You asked me, ma 1am," she said, " if I had
found Juliet altered ; and the question seems so
singular "

" Of course ! of course !" ejaculated Mr. Nor-
man. " It is Mrs. Armstrong's foolish way "

" Foolish indeed !" exclaimed the lady indig-
nantly. " I have known you for more than
twenty years, Mr. Norman ; and this is the first
time you ever insulted me !"

" Insulted you ? Not for the world, my dear
madam !" cried the good-hearted Mr. Norman.
" Insult an old friend like you P No, it is impos-
sible !"

" Well, there's an end of the matter," said
Mrs. Armstrong, proffering her hand : then quickly
turning to the old aunt, she added, " I meant to
say, my dear madam, that Juliet has not the same
good looks as when she went on that visit to you
five or six months ago "

A cry burst from my lips, as I rushed forward

170

•ELtEH PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AST ACTEESS.

to assist poor Juliet, who -had turned deadly pale
and was sinking from iier cbair in a swoon.

Mrs. Armstrong— apparently forgetting all that
she had been saying, and perhaps not for an in-
stant conceiving that it bad anything to do with
Juliet's sudden indisposition— flew to the mantel
to procure a bottle of sal-volatile salts ; while Mr.
and Mrs. Norman, with mingled grief and conster-
nation on their countenances, rushed to assist me
in sustaining their daughter.

'•'Remove her into the adjoining room," et^id
Mrs. Oldcastle ; " and give her fresh air. — Do not
trouble yourself, Mrs. Armstrong," she added ;
"Juliet is with those who will take care of her;
and do you remain with me. Yes, it is perfectly
true that Juliet stayed at tny house five or six
months ago ; and I mean to take her there with
me again."

These words met the ears of Mr. an4 Mrs. Nor-
mnn and myself as we were conveyiDg the inani-
mate form cf Juliet into the next room. The
speech startled us; and we exchanged rapid
glances of amazement. Indeed, we could scarcely
believe our own ears. We closed the folding-door
behind us ; and placing Juliet on a sofa, adminis-
tered restoratives. She soon began to recover;
and in the meanwhile we heard Mrs. Armstrong
taking her departure. Aunt Oldcastle had evi-
dently managed to get rid of her; and this seemed
to be another proof that there was some design
on the part of the old lady which we could not
fathom — unless it were by the conjecture that
having seen some falsehood had been told, she did
not wish to expose her relatives, and therefore was
generously shielding them.

Juliet opened her eyes ; and looking around, she
sajd in a mournful voice, "Now everything is dis-
covered !"

" Hush, my dear child ! — hush !" said Mrs.
Norman: and the next instant the folding-door
opening, Mrs. Oldcastle made her appearance.

Our glances were all flung quickly, anxiously,
and searchingly upon her countenance ; but there
was nothing very ominous nor menacing in its
expression. She advanced towards the sofa; and
sitting down, took Juliet's hand, saying, " I hope,
my dear, that you are better now ?"

"Yes— thank you, aunt," replied Juliet, blush-
ing and full of confusion.

"These sudden indispositions do take place at
times," continued Mrs. Oldcastle, with an air as if
she veritably meant what she said, and was not
by any means seeking an excuse to restore Juliet
to self-possession and confidence. " By the bye,
Mr. Norman, I think as this is the last day I
shall spend at your house, you may as well direct
the servants to say you are not at home to any
other visitors."

Mr. Norman hastened with alacrity to obey this
instruction ; and Mrs. Oldcastle continued to
speak in an affectionate manner to Juliet. At
length we all returned to the front drawing-
room; and Mrs. Oldcastle went on conversing just
as if nothing had occurred to alter her good opinion
of the Normans — but on the contrary, as if some-
thing had happened to confina it. I could scarcely
understand her conduct. Did she suspect Juliet's
secret? — had she fathomed it? — were her eympa-
thies enlisted ou behalf of the unfortunate girl ?
—and was she resolved to display compassion

where anger might have been expected ? The
Normans themselves were as much at a loss as I
was to interpret the old lady's conduct otherwise
than by similar conjectures ; and at all events it
was a material solace, as well as a relief frota
much cruel embarrassment, to find that she was
behaving thus.

It was about an hour before dinner-time that
Mrs. Oldcastle left off knitting— deliberately rolled
up her work round the needles —deposited it in
her great bag; — and taking off her horn spec-
tacles with the large circular glasses, she evidently-
prepared herself for some serious announcement
or proposition.

"Mr. Norman," she at length said, "canyott
part from your daughter for a time ?"

"Part with her?" he faltered forth. "Why,
my dear aunt— the proposal comes so unex-
pected not but that it is very kind^ ■"

"Oh, excessively kind 1" interjected Mrs. Nor-
man. " But I am afraid ' "

" Juliet, my dear," said Mrs. Oldcastle, turning
towards Miss Norman, " will you come and spend
a few months with me ?"

Juliet was once more full of confusion: her
cheeks for an instant glowed with blushes, and
then became deadly white. Mrs. Oldcastle looked
astonished; and she slowly gazed from one to the
other,— her mouth gradually pursing up, and the
4ark cloud gathering upon her features.

" I certainly did not expect this hesitation," she
at length said. " My aim could scarcely be mis-
taken. You know, Mr. Norman, that I have it ia
my power to leave some one a few pounds at my
death; and I therefore thought But no mat-
ter!" she abruptly checked herself. "Let the
subject drop. There is an end of it !"

Tho teats were now trickling down Juliet's
cheeks; and unable to restrain her emotions, she
abruptly rose and quitted the room.

" Go and attend to your daughter," said Mrs.
Oldcastle to Mrs. Norman ; " and tell her that I
am by no means angry with her."

Mrs. Norman retired accordingly : Mr. Norman
endeavoured to stammer out some sort of apology
for the hesitation with which the aunt's proposal
had been received : but the old lady cut him short
by saying, " Not another syllable, if you please,
upon the subject !"

I now quitted the room, and hastened to rejoin
Juliet,— whom I found weeping passionately on
her mother's bosom.

" Oh, how unhappy I am !" she murmured
amidst her sobs. " To be unable to accept the
invitation — to lose perhaps every chance of find-
ing favour in the eyes of my relative "

"Console yourself, my dear girl," said Mrs.
Norman, who was herself weeping. "It is im-
possible to recall the past ; and all the regrets in
the world will not amend it."

Juliet presently became more tranquil : but
when we descended to the dining-room, her eyes
still betrayed the traces of recent weeping. The
old aunt continued to maintain an affectionate de-
meanour towards Juliet, and one of kindness to-
wards myself; but in respect to Mr. and Mrs.
Norman I fancied that she was a little more cold
and distant than she had at any time been since
her first appearance at tho house. After dinner
they were compelled to repair to the theatre: but

ELLEN PKECT ; OE, THE MEM0I118 OP ATT ACTEE8S.

I remained at home. A note was presently de-
Kvered to me. It was from Frances Howard ; and
the handwriting was beautitully ladj-likc. It an-
nounced the success of her interview with Mr.
Richards ; and it contained the warmest expres-
sions of gratitude for my friendly intervention iu
her behalf.

Juliet and I sat with Mrs. Oldcastle ia the
drawing-room ; and it occurred to me that the
elderly lady was fidgetting somewhat, as if she
sought an opportunity to speak to me alone. At
length she intimated that if either Juliet or my-
self wished to retire to any other room, or amuse
ourselves elsewhere in any way, she hoped that
her presence would not prove a restraint upon us.
I seized aa opportunity to whisper to Juliet,
"Leave ua together for half-an-hour : I am con-
vinced Mrs. Oldcastlo wishes to speak to me
alone !"

Juliet shortly afterwards retired on some pre-
text ; and when the door closed behind her, I ob-
served that Mrs. Oldcastle surveyed me with a
scrutinizing attention.

" Miss Percy," at length she said, " I want to
have a little conversation with you. I wonder
whether you will deal frankly and candidly with
me?"

I knew not precisely what answer to make; and
while I was reflecting, Mrs. Oldcastle continued
in the following manner: —

" You already know that for a long series of
years I have remained aloof from my relatives. I
have been estranged from them. To speak candidly,
I hated and loathed the stage : but with an equal
honest frankness will I admit that my sojourn be-
neath this roof has tended to disabuse me of much
of that prejudice. For some little time past I
have been thinking that perhaps I was wrong to
discard my relatives altogether : I felt that old age
and infirmities were creeping over me : and I
thought it was time that I should look around to
decide who is to inherit whatsoever I may have to
leave. I came to London to see the Normans;
and this day I was prepared to adopt Juliet as my
heiress. But things have been taking place which
I cannot comprehend : mystery has enveloped the
scenes that have been passing around me. First
of all I comprehended that my name had been
made use of by the Normans in some manner
utterly at variance with the truth : but I was dis-
posed to overlook this circumstance, — trusting that
when it should be sooner or later explained, the
object of the untruth would be found to be of a
venial character. You saw therefore that I shielded
my relatives from exposure iu the presence of that
gossiping Mrs. Armstrong. But they recused to
accept the proposition which I made that Juliet
should accompany me — I cannot understand it !
Now, Miss Percy, it is from your lips only that I
choose to seek explanations; and I tell youtrankly
that in the hour which is passing Juliet's fate will
be decided, so far as I am concerned — I mean
whether at my death she shall be an heiress or
not?"

"Would it not be better, madam," I replied,
seriously embarrassed, " that you should require
explanations from Mr. Norman ?"

"It does not suit me to do so, Miss Percy," re-
plied Mrs. Oldcastle severely. " The Normans
have evidently been telling untruths of some kind

or another : but from i/our lips I have not once
heard a single syllable to make me mistrust the
sincerity of your character. To i/ou, therefore do
I address myself. You have admitted that there
are explanations to give : I now desire to know
whether you will give them."

" Granting that there be family secrets, Mrs.
Oldcastle," I said, " you must comprehend that it
is not for me, who enjoy a home beneath this roof,
to betray them."

The old lady reflected for some moments, during
which she continued to sit upright, as prim and as
starch as if she were an old maid, and her mouth
ominously pursed up.

"There are family secrets — eh?" she resumed,
after a long silence ; " and these secrets are to be
concealed from the knowledge of the old aunt.
Then what inference can I draw P Only one !—
which is that these secrets involve some circum-
stance but little creditable to Juliet."

" I declare to you, madam," I vehemently ex-
claimed, " your grand-niece is as good and honour-
able a young woman - "

" I believe you, Miss Percy I" interrupted Mrs.
Oldcastle ; " and I offer you a thousand thanks for
the assurance. — Juliet is good and honourable," she
continued in a musing strain ; " yet she is evi-
dently unhappy — the cause of her unhappiness is
kept a secret — and what in this world is ever con-
nected with the unhappiness of young women un-
less it be some love-affair ?"

She bent her eyes inquiringly upon me : but I
remained silent.

" Some months ago," continued Mrs. Oldcastle,
again in a musing manner, " it was alleged that
Juliet came on a visit to me at Dover. Doubtless
this was a pretext to account for her absence from
home. For what reason could a young female
need such a pretext ? Ah, Miss Percy ! unless
your friend Juliet bo privately married, I fear
that you yourself can have scarcely spoken the
truth when you proclaimed her to be so good and
virtuous !"

" Madam," I ejaculated, " I am utterly inca-
pable of deceiving you on such a point. But you
must not catechise me thus !"

" Listen, Miss Percy !" said the old lady. " If
Juliet be really all you have represented her, she
deserves to become my heiress : but it is impossi-
ble that in utter ignorance of all the circumstances
which surround her, I can bequeath her whatso-
ever fortune I may have to leave. She is evidently
unhappy. You tell me that she has not erred.
Then she may be unfortunate ?— and if unfortu-
nate, why should her misi'jrtunes be concealed from
me as if they were crimes ? The destiny of Juliet
is veritably in your hands at the present moment.
Eemain silent, and I drop the subject for over : but
deal with me frankly, and I declare that if Juliet
be only unfortunate, and not erring, I will fulfil
towards her all the intentions which a few hours
ago I had harboured."

At this moment a female servant entered ; and
addressing me, she said, " If you please. Miss, will
you go to Miss Norman ? for I am sure she is very
unwell."

I started up from my chair; and Mrs. Oldcastle,
likewise rising, said, " Miss Percy, I will accom-
pany you."

I dared not offer any objection ; and we hastened

together to Juliet's chamber. My poor friend was
Ijing upon the sofa : and she bad loosened all her
garments ; for, as I subsequently learnt, she had
felt as if she were about to swoon. She bad like-
wise rung the bell and desired the maid to fetch
me ; for she was afraid of being left alone in her
chamber, lest she should sink completely off into a
fit. Indeed, she was so unwell when Mrs. Old-
castle and myself entered the room, that she did
not immediately perceive her relative was with
ine. I supported her in my arms ; and Mrs. Old-
castle, advancing towards her, spoke most kindly
and affectionately. Juliet was galvanized by her
voice into completest life once more ; and she
Btared almost wildly upon the old lady.

" You are better now, my dear child," said Mrs.
Oldcastle. " I will leave you with your friend ;
and I hope that presently you will be enabled to
join me in the drawing-room."

Having thus spoken, Mrs. Oldcastle somewhat
abruptly quitted the chamber.

" Good heavens, how wretched and miserable I
am, Ellen !" exclaimed Juliet, throwing her arms
about my neck and weeping passionately. " What
has she been saying to you ? Does she suspect-
does she know "

" She knows nothing," I hastily replied ; " fori
would not for the world betray your secret."

I then gave Juliet a rapid outline of what had
taken place between her aunt and myself,- and I
concluded by observing, "If you were to follow
my advice, Juliet, you would tell her every-
thing."

" Let me think over it," said Juliet : " it is a
step that must not be taken in a hurry, and at all
events not without the concurrence of my parents.
Eeturn to her — or she will think I am worse than
I really am. Leave me to myself a little : I am
quite well now — the indisposition has passed —
and I will rejoin you presently in the drawing:
room."

I complied with my friend's request ; and I re-
turned to the drawing-room. There Mrs. Old-
castle was seated, just as if she had never once
quitted her upright prim position in the chair
which she occupied.

"I have been thinking, Miss Percy," she at
once said, " upon all that has passed between us ;
and as I am convinced that you yourself are
truthful, I shall act upon the assurance you have
given me in respect to Juliet. You will presently
see how. — And now, if you will not think me im-
pertinent, might I ask a question in reference to
yourself ? I understand that you are an orphan :
do you happen to know if there be any kinship
between yourself and a family of the same name
that dwelt a long time back in one of the northern
counties r"

" Grood heavens — yes !" I exclaimed. " But
why do you ask ? Oh ! I remember that when
my name was first mentioned to you, Mrs. Old-
castle, you appeared startled and surprised ! Yes
i— and you are agitated now !"

" Do you mean to tell me, Ellen," she asked, with
rapid utterance, and for the first time calling me
by my Christian name, — " do you mean to tell me
that you belong to a family which was associated
with the Forsyths and the Wakefields ?"

"Yes, yes !— that is my family ! My unfortu-
nate father "

But I stopped short ; and I trembled exces-
sively— for I saw by Mrs. Oldcastle's look and
manner that my father's guilt of former days was
no secret to her. Her eyes were fixed upon me
with a degree of compassionate interest which I
had previously thought her countenance to be but
little capable of expressing.

"My poor child," she said, " this is a most sin-
gular coincidence. Perhaps there is even some-
thing providential in it ! Your father — the un-
fortunate Charles Percy for I will not use

harsher language while speaking of him was

the nephew of my husband— the only son of that
husband's much loved sister !"

" Yes— this is strange indeed !" I murmured, as
Mrs. Oldcastle kissed me several times upon the
forehead.

" It is not however singular," she proceeded to
observe, " that the Normans should never have sus-
pected the connexion : for they knew nothing of my
husband, nor of his family or relations. — And
your father, Ellen — he has long since been dead-
has he not ?"

The tears were streaming down my cheeks ; and
after some hesitation, I murmured, " No — he yet
lives !"

"He lives!" ejaculated Mrs. Oldcastle in as-
tonishment. " A rumour of his death was long
ago wafted to me — I remember not precisely how
But where is he ?"

" Oh, do not ask me !" I exclaimed, with pas-
sionate grief; for I thought that if ever Mrs.
Oldcastle should learn the secret of Juliet's mis-
fortunes, she would at the same time comprehend
that the Mr. Croft who was so fatally connected
therewith, was none other than my own father,
— I mean that she would make this discovery if I
were now to reveal to her that he was passing
under that name of Croft.

" Yes — I understand, poor child !" she said,
again kissing me : " it is only too painful a sub-
ject for you !" — and she evidently thoup^ht my
father was still in a penal colony. " Are the
Normans acquainted "

"No— Ob, no!" I exclaimed : "that is a secret
which I would not have known even to my best
and dearest friends !"

" And this secret shall be kept inviolate," said
Mrs. Oldcastle. "Nothing of all that has now taken
place between us, need be mentioned — none of
these explanations — no, not even the fact tliat
there is the slightest kinship betwixt yourself and
me ! At the same time, my dear Ellen, rest as-
sured that I shall not forget that which we never-
theless agree to retain secret. Continue to be a
good girl— as you now are ; and you shall find at
my death that I have not failed to remember you.
And now not another word 1"

Thus speaking, Mrs. Oldcastle again kissed me ;
and she placed her finger upon my lips to silenco
the expressions of gratitude to which I was about
to give utterance in acknowledgment of her gene-
rous intentions towards me. AVe resumed our
seats; and we had scarcely composed our looks,
when Juliet made her appearance.

" My dear girl," said Mrs. Oldcastle, after a
kind inquiry how she felt, "you may make your
arrangements to accompany me to Dover to-
morrow. You shall at least pass a week with me ;
and if at the expiration of that time you wish to

rejoin your family circle at home, I shall not offer
the slightest objection— neither shall I be offended.
Come! surely you will accept this proposition?
You will not find me a cross crabbed old woman —
but one who will endeavour to amuse you. I
Lave some atonements to make for past neglect

But of that no matter ! I am now going to

take my leave ; you will tell your parents what
my wishes are; and to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock I shall be here in a post-chaise to fetch
you."

Having thus spoken, Mrs. Oldcastle rang the
bell ; and when a domestic answered the sum-
mons, she ordered a cab to be fetched. She then
affectionately embraced Juliet; and turning to
me, she said, " I mast likewise kiss your sweet
young friend Ellen, whom I really love aa much as
yourself."

I saw that these words were purposely uttered
with a significancy intended for my comprehen-
sion only ; and Mrs. Oldcastle took her departure.

"What do you understand by all this?" in-
quired Juliet when the elderly lady was gone.

" I understand by it," I replied, " that Mrs.
Oldcastle will yet prove an excellent friend to you,
Juliet ; and I am much mistaken if in the long
run she will not become the means of extricating
you from the embarrassments of your position,
rather than of plunging you into still greater per-
plexities."

" Do you think— do you imagine "

" Let us not waste our time in speculation or
conjecture," I interrupted my friend. "Mrs. Old-
castle asks you only to remain a week with her ;
and during that period you will doubtless learn to
know her better than you now do."

When Mr. and Mrs. Norman returned from the
theatre, they were much delighted with the intelli-
gence that matters were so amicably arranged with
the old aunt, and that Juliet was to spend a week
with her. The reader cannot have failed to under-
stand that they were afraid, in the first instance,
that if Juliet had accepted an invitation for several
months, she could not well withdraw herself from
Dover in the course of a few weeks without ex-
citing suspicion: and yet it was but for a few
weeks longer that she could conceal her situation
from the world. Thus the sort of compromise
effected with the aunt was most agreeable to Mr.
and Mrs. Norman.

On the following day, punctually as the clock
was striking ten in the forenoon, a post-chaise
drove up to the door of the house in Hunter-street.
As we all looked from the window, we were sur-
prised on beholding a domestic in livery and a
female- servant (evidently a lady's-maid) seated in
the rumble. Both were elderly ; and the I'ootman
was stout, red-faced, and comfortable-looking.

"Depend upon it," said Mr. Norman, "aunt
Oldcastle is much richer than we even fancied ;
and I dare say, my dear Julie, you will find that
she lives in far better style than we could have
possibly conceived."

Mrs. Oldcastle would not alight : Juliet's trunk
was ready packed ; and the farewells were said.
We saw her into the post-chaise : we shook hands
with Mrs. Oldcastle : but she pressed mine, and
bent upon me a significant look as much as to
oonvey the assurance that she would nut forget
me.

CHAPTER XXXII.

IHE TEST OP LOVE.

The morning's post brought me a note from Lady
Cecilia Urban, requesting that I would call upon
her. It was worded not merely in a courteous,
but even in a friendly style ; and it named the
hour of noon as that at which my presence was
required at her mansion in Grosvenor Square. I
proceeded thither according to the appointment;
and was at once shown up into a splendidly fur-
nished apartment, where Lady Cecilia was seated.
She rose to receive me — gave me her hand — and
said with some degree of emotion, " I think, Misa
Trafford, that after all I shall have to thank you
for saving me from an alliance which would not
prove conducive to my happiness."

" Your ladyship has doubtless heard from Mr.
Croft ?" I said, taking the seat which Cecilia indi-
cated, while she resumed her own.

"Yes— I have heard from Mr. Croft," she an-
swered. " His letter reached me yesterday ; and
though it is cautiously worded — mentioning no
name but that of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe — yet
does it convey sufficient to make me shudder at
the abyss upon which I have been standing. At
the same time, Miss Trafford, the whole proceeding
is involved in so much mystery "

" That your ladyship," I interjected, " can
scarcely yet place reliance upon the allegations
made against the character of Lord Frederick ? At
this incredulity I cannot be astonished——"

" No, Mis3 Trafford," she interrupted me, speak-
ing in a serious tone ; "it is not incredulity. Did
I believe that you were capable of playing an in-
famous part, I should not have written in a
friendly strain ; nor should I give you such a re-
ception as that which you now experience. There
are things in this world which one believes, but
upon which nevertheless one dares not act without
having previously obtained corroborative evidence.
You yourself suggested that I should put Lord
Frederick to some test : and I am about to follow
your advice. He will be here almost imme-
diately "

" Might he not learn from the servants that I
also am here ?" I asked ; " and your ladyship will
be kind enough to remember that all which has
taken place between us, is to remain a profound
secret with his lordship."

" I have not forgotten the pledge which I gave
you to that effect," replied Lady Cecilia. " The
servants have received my instructions ; and your
presence in the house will be unknown to Lord
Frederick. See !" she continued, rising from her
seat, and advancing towards a pair of folding doors
on one side of the room, which corresponded with
another pair precisely opposite : " any one in the
inner room can overhear what is passing in this
apartment. It is the same with the room to which
those opposite doors lead. — Can you give me an
hour of your time ?"

" With pleasure, my lady," I answered : for I
was as much pleased as astonished at the exceed-
ing urbanity of her manner towards me.

"Then have the goodness to take your place in
this inner room," continued Cecilia Urban ; "and
do not be afraid to listen at the doors : for I wish

174

ELLEN PERCY; OH, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTKESS.

and mean you to do so— aud no one v. ill cater to
iuterfero witli you."

I accordingly passed iuto the adjoining room :
her ladyship closed the folding doors, — she herself
remaining in the apartment where she had first
received me, and which, as the reader comprehends,
was the central one of a suite of three. Almost
immediately afterwards a loud double knock re-
sounded through the house; and in a few moments
I heard the name of Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe
announced in the adjoining room.

" Dearest Cecilia !" exclaimed tho young noble-
man, when the door had closed behind him and
the domestic had retired ; " you are about to
reader me supremely happy by positively fixing
the day when our nuptials are to take place !"

" But first tell me, Frederick," responded her
ladyship, ia a half gay, half serious tone, " whether
you really love me so fondly as you have de-
clared ?"

"Can you doubfc it? Oh, is it possible that
you can doubfc it ?" cried RavensclifiFe, with a tone
of so much sincerity that it must have doubtless
bewildered the young lady in the presence of the
allegations made against her suitor.

"No, no~I do not doubfc it!" she replied.
"Bufc still-—"

"Ah, dearest! I comprehend you!" ejaculated
Lord Frederick. " Yes : for I know how sweet it
is to receive over and over again from i/our lips
the assurance of your love, — that assurance which
never can be reiterated too often ! Oh, you know
I love you!"

" And for myself alone ?" asked Cecilia, as if in
a fondly murmuring voice.

" Oh ! can you fancy that there is any alloy of
selfishness iu my love ?" he exclaimed, in that
gushing tone of enthusiasm which had so fatally
beguiled poor Juliet, and which it was indeed so
difiicult to disbelieve. " It is true, Cecilia, that
according to report you are far wealthier than I
can ever hope to be : bufc surely, surely the de-
voted love which I bear you cannot be sus-
pected ?"

" No, no !" she interrupted him, " I do not
suspect you ! But the step I am about to take is
a serious one; and every fresh assurance I receive
from your lips is an additional guarantee of the
genuine sincerity of your affection. Tell me, Fre-
derick— repeat those dear words which you yester-
day breathed in my ear 1 am the first whom

you ever loved P"

"Oh, I swear it!— most solemnly do I swear
it !" exclaimed Lord Frederick : and I, who was
an unseen listener at all that was passing in the
adjacent room, trembled at tho stupendous per-
jury which had just been committed.

" The only one whom you have ever loved P"
said Cecilia, murmuringly. "Ah ! it is delightful
to receive this assurance ! For such sad tales are
sometimes told of man's duplicity aud deceit "

"Cecilia!" ejaculated Bavenscliflfe, "I take
heaven to witness the vow that I am incapable of
deceiving you !"

Again I shuddered at his perjury; and that
moment another double knock resounded through
the house. In a few moments I heard the foot-
man enter the adjoining room ; and he said, " If
you please, my lady, Mr. Lockhart has called to
Bee your ladyship upon business."

"How provoking!" ejaculated Cecilia; "and
without sending me any previous notice of his in-
tention ! Well, I suppose that I must see him. —
Show Mr. Lockhart up, James."

"Yes, my lady:" — and I heard the domestic
retire.

" It is only my solicitor," Lady Cecilia now
hastily said to Lord Frederick. " I do not think
he can detain me long: you will not perhaps
mind waiting during his visit ? You can pass
into the adjoining room : you will find books and
newspapers there— and it is of no consequence,"
she added with a laugh that sounded gay and
gleeful, " that the foldingdoois are but slight : for
I can have no secrets with my lawyer which yoit,
Frederick, may not overhear."

I heard one of the leaves of the opposite folding-
doors open and shut ; aud I knew that Lady Ce-
cilia once more remained alone in the central
apartment of the suite. In less than a minute
tho domestic reappeared, announcing Mr. Lock-
hart,

" I suppose I must bid you welcome, my dear
sir," exclaimed Lady Cecilia with a tone of play-
ful reproach, " as an old friend of the family : but
really you ought to have sent me notice of your
intention to pay this visit : for I see that it ia a
professional one. Heavens ! that ominous bag, looic-
ing so plethoric with papers which imagination
depicts as dingy and dusty— and all tied round
with red tapes! But you surely do not mean to
inflict the reading of them upon me ?"

" That must be according to your ladyship's
pleasure," answered a loud-spea-iag voice; so
that I was quite sure Lord Frederick must over-
hear as plainly as I could everything that was
about to take place; and I had no doubt that his
curiosity was rendering him an attentive listener.

" Come, Mr. Lockhart," said Lady Cecilia, in a
tone which sounded slightly petulant, as if with
true patrician indolence she were impatient of any-
thing that savoured of the stern realities of business;
" if we must get to these musty parchments, pray
be quick. But Oh! I begin to observe that your
countenance is more than ordinarily serious.
Surely there can be nothing but the most satis-
factory account to be rendered of the property for
which you are one of the trustees ?"

" I am sorry to say, my lady," replied Mr.
Lockhart, " that I have indeed evil intelligence
for you; and under existing circumstances — I
allude to the communication with which your
ladyship honoured me a few days ago, in respect
to your contemplated alliance with Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe "

"For heaven's sake spare set speeches, Mr.
Lockhart," exclaimed Lady Cecilia, ia accents
that appeared to be replete with suspease ; " and
come to the point at once."

"I was about to observe, my lady," continued
Mr. Lockhar^, " that under existing circumstances
I deemed it my duty to lose not an instant in
communicating the sad— tho afflicting intelligence
which has just come to my knowledge

" Grood heavens, Mr. Loclihart !" cried Cecilia :
"you alarm mS ! What do you mean ?"

'• Prepare yourself, my lady, for aa announce-
ment which I can assure you it distresses me to
make — but one which nevertheless must bo made.
At the same time it is really fortunate thdt you are

ELtEBT PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IB8 OV XTH ACTEE83.

175

engaged to wed an honourable young nobleman,
whose love and attaehtnent will not be impaired
by the change that i8 taking place in your for-
tunos "

" Mr. Lockhart, you are driving me mad !" ex-
claimed Cecilia. "Pray have mercy upon me! —
relieve me from suspense! What is this dreadful
intelligence? Am I not the heiress of the vast
domains belonging to the house of Eythorne ?
Speak !— tell me!"

'• Without entering for the present into minute
particulars," answered Mr. Lockhart , " it will be
Buflicieut — alas ! more than sufficient, for me to

announce Do for heaven's sake. Lady Cecilia,

summon all your fortitude to your aid "

" Yes, yes — I am firm ! indeed I am firm !" she
exclaimed : but the voice appeared to come from
the throat of one who was shivering and shudder-
ing. " Go on ! You mean to tell me that it is all
a delusion and that I am a beggar ?"

" Pray, my dear Lady Cecilia, do not speak so
bitterly as this ! You know not how much I my-
self am distressed !" — and the lawyer's voice was
of a tone to corroborate the assurance. " As for
the strong terms that you have used, that you are
a beggar— it is not quite so bad as that. But in-
stead of being the heiress to fifteen thousand a-year,
I am sorry to say that a bare five or six hundred
will be all that your ladyship has to rely upon.
We made sure that your cousin — your late father's
nephew — was dead— that he had perished at sea —
but he has suddenly reappeared "

" Enough, Mr. Lockhart l" interrupted Lady
Cecilia. " If my cousin be alive, he is undoubtedly
heir to the title and estates of Eythorne. There
is no disputing this fact : nor would I do so, if any
legal quibble were to open the door to litigation.
As for any other particulars — and as for the perusal
of those deeds, which you have doubtless brought
to prove the fact of my cousin's right and title —
have the kindness to let all this stand over until
to-morrow. Your word is sufficient, Mr. Lock-
hart. I thank you for the delicacy with which you
have broken this painful intelligence to me. And
now leave me!"

" I can assure you, my lady, it has been a most
painful task for me," said the lawyer. " I will
leave you. I know the strength of your mind ;
and I again congratulate you on your approaching
nuptials with a young nobleman who loves you for
yourself alone, and not for the property which you
were supposed to possess."

Mr. L'lckhart then took his leave ; and as the
door closed behind him, I heard a sound like a
burst of convulsing anguish from the lips of Lady
Cecilia Urban. 1 peeped through the key-hole,
and saw that she was seated upon a chair, with
downcast eyes, and looking the very picture of dis-
tress and woe. But all of a sudden— as if recol-
lecting something— she started up, and hastened
to open the folding-doors leading into the apart-
ment to which Lord Frederick Kavensclifie had
retired. As 1 afterwards learnt, she found him
seated at the table, apparently engaged with a
book : but she at once saw by his countenance that
he had overheard everything, and that he was asto-
nished as well as dismayed. lie rose from his chair,
and returned into the central drawing-room.

" Frederick, you know all !" said Lady Cecilia,
in accents of melting mournfulness. " I thought

to give you a fortune : but, alas ! it is only the
poorest pittance in the shape of gold that I can
bring with me as my dower. Of my love, how-
over, you know the strength "

"To tell you the truth, Lady Cecilia," inter-
rupted Lord Frederick, in a cold voice, " I fancied
just now, while we were together, that your love
could not be so very strong after all; becauae you
seemed to suspect mine- and you also endeavoured
to pick a quarrel with me."

" Good heavens, Frederick ! what do you mean?"
exclaimed Lady Cecilia, in a voice which seemed
full of anguish. "I quarrel with you!"

" Well, it was something very much like it,"
answered the young nobleman, doggedly if not
brutally ; " for you reminded me of the very seri-
ous step you were takiug "

" Oh ! it was merely to elicit fresh assurances
of love from your lipa !" cried the young lady.

" Well, but I was thinking," continued Havens-
cliffe, "even before I heard a syllable of what was

passing betwixt you and the lawyer for of

course the loss of your fortune is no consideration

with me but I was thinking, I say, that there

was something incompatible in our tempers; for
you must admit. Lady Cecilia, that you are some-
what haughty and self-willed. And then too, I
did not at all like to bo told that you felt that you
were taking a very serious step : it looked as if
you half repented "

" This is cruel, Frederick — most cruel !" ex-
claimed Cecilia. " Your manner did not change
while we were together. On the contrary you
seemed to be pleased that I should endeavour to
elicit assurances of love from your lips. You
vowed eternal fidelity to me "

" Ah ! because I was bewildered and thrown off
my guard at the time," interjected Lord Fre-
derick. "There is no reason why we should not
be very good friends, Cecilia : but I really think
that I am best studying our mutual happiness by
recommending that everything we have so
seriously thought of should be at au end. Pray
do not attribute it to any selfishness on my
part "

"Hush!" ejaculated Lady Cecilia: "there ia
another knock at the door ! Hemain here, my
lord, for a few minutes, to compose your
looks "

Her ladyship ceased as the footman entered the
room, saying, " If you please, my lady, Mr. Lock-
hart has returned."

" Show him up," said Cecilia.

" I am here !" exclaimed the lawyer, now
making his appearance. " I have such joyful
news for you ! I could not help rushing back to
communicate them as soon as possible ! Only
think !— at the end of the street I met one of my
clerks, who was hurrying down here to bring a
piece of intelligence which had just reached the
office. A vile heartless trick has been perpetrated
upon me — a forged letter — in vulgar parlance, my
dear Lady Cecilia, a shameful hoax "

" Good heavens ! what mean you ?" exclaimed
the patrician lady, as if full of excitement.

" AllI told you is wrong!" cried Mr. Lockhart :
" your cousin has not appeared — he is positively
dead — and you are still the heiress, beyond the
possibility of dispute, to tho estates of Eythorne!
I congratutate you, ray dear Lady Cecilia— most

176

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AW ACTRESS.

Bincerely do I congratulate jou ! — and I leave you
with ono who was doubtless consoling you to the
best of his endeavour, but who may now congra-
tulate you likewise."

Having thus spoken with rapid and vehement
utterance, Mr. Lockhart hurried from the room ;
and as I was subsequently informed, Lord Fre-
derick EavenscliflFe looked the very picture of
piteous confusion and consternation. Suddenly,
however, he burst into a laugh, exclaiming, " You
did not think, Cecilia, that I was really in earnest P
I was only "

" Enough, my lord !" she indignantly inter-
rupted him. "Accident has furnished me with
an opportunity of putting your love to the test.
Begone, sir ! You know not how inimitably I
despise you !"

" Nonsense, my dear Cecilia !" said the young
nobleman : " it was only a freak — though a stupid
one, I confess, on my part "

"Add not to your baseness by these ridicu-
lous falsehoods !" cried her ladyship. " Begone, I
repeat. Whatsoever love I entertained for you
has now turned into hatred. No — hatred is too
strong a term : for it is only contempt which I
can henceforth experience for Lord Frederick Ea-
Tenscliffe !"

The young nobleman dared not give utterance
to another word : he saw that all attempt at ex-
planation was vain, and that it would be useless to
Lave recourse to entreaty. Thoroughly discom-
fited, crestfallen, and miserable, he issued from the
room J and almost immediately afterwards Lady
Cecilia joined me in the apartment where I had
been a listener to everything that had taken place.
There was the flush of excitement upon her couu-
tenance : but it speedily vanished, leaving her
cheeks very pale; and she said, "Yes, you were
not wrong, Miss Traiford : he is everything you de-
scribed him ! Thank God, I am saved, through
your agency, from the abyss upon the edge of
which I have been standing !"

"In one sense I am rejoiced. Lady Cecilia," I
answered : " but in another I am distressed "

" I need no sympathy, my dear friend," she
replied : " for as a friend I shall henceforth consi-
der you! I know that my cheeks have blanched :
but that is only with a natural revulsion of the
feelings. And in respect to yourself — Oh ! pardon
me if there have been anything supercilious or
unkind in my former demeanour towards you "

" Say not another word upon the subject !" I
interrupted her ; and 1 was much aflfected by the
way in which she looked and spoke.

"At least you will suffer me to call myself your
friend," she rejoined, taking my hand and pressing
it affectionately. " You have rendered me an im-
mense service; and I possess not an ungrateful
heart. Come and see me frequently : you will
always be welcome here. — Ah ! by the bye," she
exclaimed, " I need hardly inform you that the
whole proceeding was arranged between myself
and Mr. Lockhart ; and you must admit, my dear
Miss Trafford," added Cecilia, with a smile, " that
parts may be played to perfection in private life as
well as upon the stage. By the plan which I have
pursued. Lord Frederick cannot possibly suspect
that the proceeding was otherwise than genuine —
or that I had received any previous intimation 1
wiiich induced me to put him to the test. Thus

your connexion with anything that has taken
place can never be known."

I remained for some little while longer in con-
versation with Lady Cecilia Urban ; and when I
took my leave, she repeated her desire that I would
visit her frequently. I hastened home to Hunter
Street, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Norman the wel-
come assurance that everything was at an end
between Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe and Lady
Cecilia Urban. I did not however enter into the
particulars of all that had occurred ; for I consi-
dered the matter to be of too delicate a nature for
such unnecessary details. I wrote to Juliet, making
her a similar announcement; and I also wrote to
my father in the same sense. la this last-men-
tioned letter I explained to him how I had fallen
in with Mrs. Oldcastle, and how she had treated
me with the affectionate regard of a kinswoman.

A week passed,— at the expiration of which
time letters were received from Juliet. Their con-
tents did not excite in my mind much astonish-
ment ; but they afforded me as well as her parents
a considerable degree of satisfaction. She had
found that her aunt possessed many excellent
qualities, though they were concealed beneath a
demeanour which was cold and repelling until her
disposition and character were thorou^bly known.
She did not live in Dover itself — but in its imme-
diate neighbourhood, midway between the town
and the beautifully situated village of Eiver. Her
j house was not large: it was somewhat in the
cottage-style: but it was commodious; and the
furniture, though antiquated in its fashion, was
handsome. She led a secluded life, and received
very little society ; but she was surrounded by
every comfort, Indeed, it appeared that Mr. Nor-
man's prediction when Juliet was taking her de-
parture, was realized to the extent that Mrs. Old-
castle must be much better off than even her rela-
tions had expected.

But I must now explain the sources of the
satisfaction which Juliet's letters produced in the
minds of her parents and myself. When the week
for which she had been invited to Eiver House-
as Mrs. Oldcastle's dwelling was called — was just
about to expire, the elderly lady addressed her
niece in a serious but affectionate manner. She
told Juliet that she had discovered her secret—*
namely, that she was in a way to become a mother :
but at the same time she assured her she did not
believe she had wilfully erred or proved wantonly
frail, for that she placed implicit reliance on the
solemn averment that I had made in respect to
my unfortunate friend's honourable principles. On
hearing all this, Juliet had thrown herself into her
aunt's arms and had confessed everything. She told
Mrs. Oldcastle how cruelly she had been deceived
by Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe through the medium
of a mock marriage : and how I had penetrated
the infamy of the proceeding by means of a visit
to Embledon. Mrs. Oldcastle was by this narra«
tive made aware how her own name was used at
the time of that mock marriage, as a pretext and
a cover for Juliet's absence from home during
the period which she had regarded as a happy
honeymoon. The old lady was gratified to learn
that it was really for so venial a purpose her
name had been rendered available: but she was
bitterly indignant at the treatment her niece had
experienced on the part of Lord Frederick Eavens*

liLLEX PEKCY; OK, THE JIEilOIKS OF AN ACTHE8S.

177

THE MARCHIONESS OF CAMPANLLLA.

cliffe. She expressed her desire that Juliet
bbould remain with her altogether, at least for the
present : she spoke of the discretion of her ser-
vants— and promised to make eycrj arrangement
so as to shield Juliet's honour from the world's
scandal, and protect the secret which so vitally re-
garded her reputation. Indeed, it appeared that
nothing could have been more kind, more consi-
derate, nor more affectionate than Mrs. Oldcnsi e's
conduct towards her niece j so that Juliet had
made up her mind to obey her aunt in all things
— coulident that her parents would approve of her
resolution in that respect. This approval indeed
was cheerfully given by Mr. and Mrs. Norman;
an4, my presaging words seemed to have every
Ko. 23. — Elles Peect.

prospect of a complete realization. For the reacer
will bear in mind that those words were to the
effect that I should be much mistaken if in the
long run Mrs. Oldcastle would not become the
means of extricating Juliet from the embarrass-
ments of her position, rather than of plunging her
into greater perplexities.

I should observe that Mrs. Oldcastle had made
the discovery of Juliet's secret on the occasion
when she had accompanied me to her chamber,
and when my much- wronged friend was so ex-
ceedingly indisposed that she hud loosened all her
garments to ward off the fainting-fit that she
ifearcd was approaching. It was thus fortunate
for Juliet that accident had revealed the secret

178

SIXSK PEECT; OE, THB MBM0IE3 07 AW ACTEB88.

■which her own lips had feared to confess. Mr
and IMts. iN'ormaa were most thankful for the'
course which circumstances were thus taking ; and
they penned letters in this sense to Mrs. Old-
castle.

I must now epeak of Frances Howard. This
lady paid me a second visit at the theatre, and
repeated in fervent words the gratitude she had
previously conveyed through the medium of a note.
She was evidently unsuspicious of the circum-
etance that her interview with that tall, dark'
complexioned man had been witnessed by me ; and
I of course said nothing on the subject, although
I still wondered what mysterious circumstances
oould possibly surround this interesting new ac-
quaintance of mine. I bade her come to me daily
and I would cheerfully give her lessons in the
dramatic art ; for Mr. Bichards had intimated to
her the necessity of practising a little before she
made her debut. She availed herself of my ser-
vices ; and I had much pleasure in rendering
them ; for I found that she was amiable and
gentle, accomplished and intelligent, polished in
her manners, and one who in every sense capti-
vated the heart of friendship. I have before
epoken of the beauty of her person : — all her
movements were full of elegance and grace ; and
I felt convinced that the sylphid form which I be-
held before me during the hours of practice, had
often glided through the maze of the dance in the
brilliantly lighted drawing-room. Thus, during
the week that I gave some requisite instructions
to Frances Howard, I became more and more in-
terested in her ; and from my mind was banished
every suspicion that could in any way make me
hesitate to bestow the fullest amount of my friend-
ship upon her.

CHAPTEE XXXIIL

PBAHCES HOWAED.

I BHOUliD observe that every evening throughout
the week of which I have just been speaking,
Frances Howard attended the theatre, that she
might study all the peculiarities of the stage pre-
vious to making her debut. My influence with
Mr. Eichards procured her every species of atten-
tion ; so that she had the lessee's own private box
at her disposal when she thought fit to retire to it
—or she might go behind the scenes at her plea-
sure.

The time was fixed for her debut ; and I am
now about to speak of the evening previous to the
one on which it was arranged for her to appear. I
remember that on this particular evening I ex-
perienced a reception more enthusiastic, if pos-
sible, than any I had previously known, flattering
as they all had been. Bouquets showered down
upon me in profusion; atid the entire audience
rose to receive the salutations through the me-
dium of which I conveyed my acknowledgments.
Having changed my apparel in the dressing-room,
I proceeded to join Frances Howard, who was in
the private box ; for I was desirous to bid her
be early with me on the morrow, that I might
devote an extra hour to the part which she had to
study. On repairing to that box, I found her en-

tirely alone, as usual — with the curtains drawn in
such a manner as to shut her out from the view of
the audience, but afifording her vision the complete
range of the stage. There was a glow upon the
cheeks that were ordinarily so pale ; and there was
an unusual lustre in her deep grey eyes. She at
once rose, grasped me by the hand, and said in a
voice where fervour and pathos were blended " I
congratulate you, dear Miss Traflford, on the bril-
liant triumph of this night !"

It was on my account that her enthusiasm was
excited: I looked upon her conduct as another
proof of the gratefulness of her disposition ; and I
replied, " Let me hope that similar triumphs are
in store for you."

She heaved a profound sigh : the colour forsook
her cheeks ; and she murmured something which
struck me to be in the Italian language. I had
learnt a little of that tongue when at school in the
neighbourhood of Chelsea ; and I had thus obtained
a smattering of it ; but I could not comprehend
the words that had just murmuringly fallen from
Frances Howard's lips.

" You were speaking in Italian P" I said, in a
gentle voice.

"Ah! was I?" she ejaculated, with a sudden
start, as if those words had been spoken involun-
tarily, and as if she were now surprised that she
should have been betrayed into the utterance of
them : then quickly recovering her self-possession,
she added, " Yes — I am acquainted with the
Italian language. Are you, Miss Trafiford .''"

"Very slightly," I responded; "and I did not
catch what you were saying."

Miss Howard flung upon me a glance as if to
thank me for an assurance that had given her
some relief; and she said, " Oh, how happy you
ought to be. Miss Trafi'ord, at the brilliancy of
these triumphs which you achieve upon the stage !
To behold that crowded audience rise to greet you
with so much fervid enthusiasm ! — a Queen could
not receive a higher compliment !"

I smiled, and said, " Again let me express the
hope, my dear Miss Howard, that similar triumphs
are in store for you."

" This is generous — most generous on your
part !" replied the young lady : " because ■"
and she stopped short.

" Because," I rejoined, again smiling, " you are
about to adopt the same line of characters as those
which I have made my especial study ; and you
wonder that I should be free from the infection of
that jealousy and dread of rivalry which prevail, I
am sorry to say, to such an extent amongst the
votaries of the stage. Between you and me, my
dear Miss Howard, it will prove a generous
rivalry ; and you can believe me when I proclaim
the delight which I should experience in beholding
you as successful as myself. You will have a
crowded house to-morrow night : Mr. Richards j ist
now assured me that such will be the case. — But
there is only one thing I am afraid of "

" And what is that ?" asked Miss Howard
eagerly and anxiously, my words having evidently
smitten her with a sudden apprehension.

"Do not misunderstand me !" I hastened to oh-
serve. " That you possess talent — genius — I have
assured you more than once. But you are timid
— and you must collect all your fortitude for the
moment when you will stand in the presence of

Bttsir pssct; oa, TBS BtEuotas of ait actbebs.

1^9

that crowded audience. It is on this point only
that I am apprehensive : for you seem to shrink
from the gaze of a multitude. Even in this
box "

"Ah!" said Miss Howard, smiling, "you ob-
serve that I keep the curtains closed? But it
really was through no shrinking from the notice of
the spectators : it was simply that I might all the
more completely concentrate my attention on what
was passing on the stage.— Do you know many of
the ladies and gentlemen who are present on this
occasion ?" — and she partially drew back the cur-
tain, at the same time looking up towards the
crowded house.

" In that box yonder," I replied, directing her
attention to a particular one, " the Duke and
Duchess of Ardleigh are seated. The Duchess,
you observe, is a splendid woman. That young
gentleman on her left hand, is her elder son, the
Marquis of Dalrymple. In yonder box you behold
Lady Cecilia Urban— a rich heiress. I have the
honour of her acquaintance. She is accompanied

by her aunt : but who that other lady is Grood

heavens, Miss Howard ! is anything the matter
with you ?"

I had glanced suddenly towards her, in order to
see if she were looking in the direction of that
second box on which I had sought to fix her notice ;
and I was astonished as well as dismayed to ob-
serve that she was terribly agitated. She was
ghastly pale : she had fallen back in her seat as if
about to faint.

" It is nothing— a sudden indisposition — it will
pass immediately," she murmured : and then, as if
struck by a thought, she dre>v the curtain to the
extent to which it was previously closed.

I felt convinced that her words had conveyed a
mere excuse, and that she had beheld some one
whose presence thus affected her. I thought of
the tall dark-complexioned man; and I looked at
her with inquiring earnestness. I was likewise
smitten with the dread lest any similar incident
should occur to unnerve her on the following
night. She was now recovering her self-possession
—but slowly, and as if with painful efforts.

"Miss Trafiford," she said, "it were improper —
it were imgenerous to deceive you. I have just
seen one whom I little expected to behold here to-
night ; I did not even know she was in England.
That lady who is seated next to the one that you
mentioned as an acquaintance of your's "

" Lady Cecilia Urban," I interjected.

" Yes — and the lady seated next to her," con-
tinued Miss Howard, " is the Marchioness of Cam-

"And you know her?" I said inquiringly.

"I know her," responded Frances in a voice
which was not merely low and deep, but which
had something peculiar in its accents.

" Do not think me impertinent," I continued ;
" but I fancy that you have known the Mar-
chioness in better days — and you feel a repugnance
at the idea that she may possibly be present to-
morrow evening to witness your first appearance
on the stage. But has it not already struck you.
Miss Howard, that you are certain to be recog-
nised by persons whom you have known else-
I where — and perhaps under far different circum-
stances ?"

" No, no ! I am not afraid of thai !" she quickly

responded: and then she added, after a brief
pause, and in a more subdued tone, " I have not
long been in England — I am completely unknown

in English society • I was for many years

abroad."

" And the Marchioness of Campanella is doubt-
less an Italian lady ?" I said.

"N"o," replied Miss Howard: "she is an Eng-
lish lady: but her husband is an Italian. He
represents one of the wealthiest and most ancient
families of Tuscany."

My companion now remained silent for some
minutes, apparently wrapped up in her thoughts.
Moving towards the opening of the curtain, I
peeped forth in the direction of Lady Cecilia
Urban's box ; and I looked attentively at the
Marchioness of Campanella. Though not strictly
beautiful, she possessed a most ploas'nij counte-
nance, the expression of which indicated an
amiable, kind, and gentle disposition. Her age
appeared to be about five or six and twenty : she
was tall in stature, with a shapa of admirable
symmetry ; and she had a beautiful complexion.
She was richly dressed — or I ought perhaps with
more propriety to use the word elegance in respect
to her apparel ; at the same time observing that
it was characterized by that exquisite taslo whicli
was purely Continental, and which she had doubt-
less acquired from her residence in foreign coun-
tries. She had auburn hair and blue eyes : her
features were not perfectly regular — but there was
an exceeding sweetness in the expression of the
mouth ; and her countenance was a complete oval.
I felt assured that the Marchioness of Campanella
was not a being who would look with scorn or
hauteur upon Frances Howard for the mere reasjii
that tlie latter had experienced adverse ciicua-
stances and was compelled to have recourse to the
stage as the means of earning her bread.

" You have studied the Marchioness atten-
tively," said Miss Howard, again breaking silence.
" What opinion have you formed of her charac-
ter ?"

"That she is amiable, generous, and kind-
hearted," I replied : " or else never was I more
deceived in the expression of a female counte-
nance 1"

" She is ! she is ! — she is all that you have de-
scribed her !" ejactJated Miss Howard, with consi-
derable excitement of manner. " And now I must
take my departure," she added, with what I
thought a strange abruptness.

I did not offer to convey her in the carriage to
her abode, for she had kept me in ignorance of her
residence; and I even fancied that if I proposed
to see her as far as the door of the theatre, it
might have the appearance of curiosity on my
part. I was therefore extending my hand to bid
her farewell until the morrow, — when, as if inspired
by a sudden thought, she said, " Will you not
walk with me to my humble lodging ? It is at
no great distance."

" Yes," I answered : " with pleasure !" — for it
struck me that my hitherto reserved companion
was now beginning to place confidence in me ; and
I must confess that the more I saw of her, the
greater became my curiosity to fathom the mys-
teries which evidently environed her.

We issued forth together from the theatre ; and
as the Normans' carriage was waiting, as usual, to

180

ELLEN PEHCT; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTTIESS.

take me home, I said to Miss Howard, " Shall we
not use the equipage, however short the dis-
tance ?"

She hesitated for a moment— and then said, " I
forgot ! —you are not accustomed to walk through
the streets at such an hour. It was inconsiderate
on my part to make such a proposition ! Eeturn
you home, my dear Miss Trafford, in the carriage ;
and favour me with a call to-morrow, instead of
my keeping the appointment previously arranged
for your own abode. God knows that my address
is a humble one !— but I know that you are not too
proud to visit me there."

She mentioned the place of her abode ; and be-
fore I could give utterance to another word, she
glided rapidly away. I returned in the carriage
to Hunter Street, reflecting the while on all that
had taken place, and wondering whether the mor-
row would throw any additional light upon the
circumstances of Frances Howard.

After breakfast on the following morning, I set
out on foot to visit my new friend. I was com-
pletely ignorant of the street which she had named
to me ; and when I reached the neighbourhood in
which, according to her information, it was situated,
I was compelled to step into a shop and make ad-
ditional inquiries. A woman was serving at the
counter ; and when I put the question, she sur-
veyed me attentively before she answered it. At
length she said, " I suppose. Miss, it is for some
charitable purpose you are going to that street
—for it is a very poor one."

The thought flashed to my mind that it might
possibly be one which I could not enter with pro-
priety ; and though I revolted against the idea, as
being insulting to Trances Howard herself, yet I
could not help saying, " It may be a poor street :
but I hope that it is at least respectable ?"

" Oh ! as for the matter of that," replied the
mistress of the shop, "it is as respectable as any
poor neighbourhood can possibly be : but I have
the honour of knowing you by sight. Miss Trafford

—and 1 thought I would take the liberty "

" Thank you for your well-meant kindness," I
said. " The person whom I seek is indeed poor —
but I have no reason to doubt her respectability."
The mistress of the shop, now appearing to be
convinced that my object was a charitable one,
gave me the requisite instructions ; and in a few
minutes I was threading the street where Frances
Howard dwelt. It was somewhere in the neigh-
bourhood of Clare Market: but I have now for-
gotten the name ; and it was indeed a very poor
street. I found the house which I sought: there
was a chandler's shop on the ground-floor ; and its
appearance was altogether mean enough. I in-
quired of a fat dirty 'looking woman— who was
selling candles and soap to a still dirtier-looking
girl— whether Miss Howard dwelt there?— and
she looked at me in astonishment. I began to
think that I must have made some mistake ; when
the woman exclaimed, " Ah ! perhaps you mean.
Miss, the young person who lives in the back attic ?
But this is the first time I ever heard her name
mentioned. Please to ring the top bell in the
door-post."

I walked out of the shop, which I had entered
for the purpose of making the inquiry ; and on
examining the side of the little private door, I
perceived a perpendicular array of small brass bell*

handles. I pulled the uppermost one ; and in a
few moments the door was opened by Frances
Howard. She grasped my hand in silence j and I
saw that she was much afi'ected at being compelled
to receive me in such a place. I instantaneously
said a few reassuring words ; and I followed her
up a staircase to which little light penetrated ; but
still the obscurity was not so great as to prevent
me from observing the uncleanliness of the steps
and the blackened condition of the walls. Not
another word was spoken until the back attic was
reached. Here everything was scrupulously clean:
but the whole appearance of the little chamber was
poverty-stricken — Oh! so poverty-stricken, that
my blood turned cold in my veins, and I could
scarcely prevent the tears from gushing forth. It
was evidently a ready-furnished room which my
poor friend tenanted,— if a miserable bed, a ricketty
three-legged round table, a couple of rush-bottomed
chairs, an old rug, a scrap of carpet, and a few
other trifling articles, deserved the denomination
of " furniture." I dared not for a few moments
look at Frances Howard : I felt that it was a most
painful position for her to be placed in ; and
heaven knows that mine as a visitress to that
dreary miserable chamber, was likewise painful
enough. At length I glanced furtively towards
her. She was very, very pale— the expression of
her countenance was indescribably sorrowful— and
the tears were trickling down her cheeks. I
caught her in my arms; and wo both of us wept.
Some minutes elapsed before our feelings ac*
quired sufficient composure for conversation : and
Frances was the first to break silence.

" You can no longer wonder, my dear friend,"
she said, " that I should have hesitated to give
you my address, or that at the outset of our ac-
quaintance I should hare declined to receive a visit
from you. This is the wretched abode where for
weeks and months past I have dwelt, in solitude,
in wretchedness, and iu poverty. Oh ! you cannot
conjecture the privations I have endured !"

" And never again shall you endure them !" I
vehemently exclaimed. " Good heavens! why did
you refuse at the beginning to make me your con-
fidante ?"

" Know you not, my dear friend," she replied,
in a gentle voice, and with a soft deprecating look,
" that there is a certain pride with those who have
known better days ? And this pride on my part
— Oh, deem it not a false or foolish one ! — would
have prompted me to maintain the secret of this
poverty-stricken abode, and never to have received
a visit from you until I should have had a more
suitable apartment wherein to welcome you,—
were it not for an incident which occurred last
night."

" You allude," I said, " to the presence of the
Marchioness of Campanella at the theatre ?"— al-
though I did not precisely see how that incident
could have induced Miss Howard to alter her deter-
mination with regard to keeping her abode a secret
from me.

" Yes — you are right," she responded. " And
now, my dear Miss Trafford, I am about to ask
you a favour— a very great favour I"

" Tell me how I can serve you," I said ; " and
rest assured of my willingness to render you any
assistance in my power. But pray in the first
instance come away with me quick, Frances!

EltLElf PEECT ; OB, THE MBM0IE3 OF AS ACTEE33.

181

There is a home for you where I dwell ; and those
kind people who have treated me as their daughter,
will receive you with open arms !"

" Oh, Ellen," exclaimed Misa Howard, tears
again glittering in her eyes, and her beautifully
chiselled lips quiveiing with emotion; "how kind,
how generous are you towards me ! And yet you
know nothing of me ! Under circumstances the
most inauspicious — I might even eay suspicious —
did I seek you out : I have maintained towards
you a reserve which you may deem ungenerous ;
and yet you are all benevolence and goodness
towards me ! You found me destitute of friends,
but seeking a friend in you — a stranger !— you
now find me dwelling in a state of abject misery ;
and yet your looks alter not towards me — you ask
me not whether I am the victim of any misdeed
on my own part or of the most cruel calamity !
Oh, you are indeed generous ! — and would to
heaven, Ellen, there were more such beings as
yourself on the face of the earth !"

" I have had confidence in you, Frances," I re-
plied, gazing somewhat earnestly upon her ; " and

I do not think No ! I cannot possibly believe

that I shall ever have cause to regret the friend-
ship which I have profiFered you !"

"Never! never !" ejaculated Miss Howard, taking
my band and pressing it with fervour. " I will
give you explanations now — — But, my God >
such a horrible history !— Oh, a history so fraught
with incredible atrocities — cruelties so hideous,
that were heaped upon myself — the living and the
dead compelled to hold companionship, until the
brain of the former reeled upon the very verge of

madness Just heaven ! why did thy thunders

sleep P'

Frances clasped her hands together in mingled
agony and horror at the recollections which were
thus trooping through her brain ; and I was ap-
p lied— I was shocked — I was even frightened at
the language of which she had made use ; for it
was strange and terrible— it seemed to allude to
the wild— the impossible— the most horribly extra-
vagant occurrence that could possibly be treated of
even in the page of the romancist ! She was again
deadly pale : she shuddered— she actually writhed
as if convulsively beneath the tremendous influ-
ence of the thoughts that were agitating in her
mind.

"You see how it affects me, Ellen," she at
length resumed, in a lotv and even hollow tone,
" to make the slightest reference to that fearful
history of mine. Judge then what I should be
compelled to endure if I were to deliberately com-
mence all its frightful details ! But, no ! you will not
compel me — at least not now ! It will be a mercy
on your part to grant me a reprieve. Perhaps this
Tery day however you will know everything : for
the boon I am about to crave of you is one the re-
sult of which may necessitate the fullest of those
explanations on my part. Yes — it may be so !
For sooner than lose one atom of the good opinion
that you have formed of me — sooner than sink in
the slightest degree in your estimation — I would
tell you everything, even though it were to rend
my soul with horror !"

" As you have spoken in these terms, my dear
Frances," I said — " with so much sincerity and

warmth and Oh, it is impossible to doubt your j

frankness I 1 will not for the world press you

to make the slightest revelation which may en-
hance the woe that already fills your heart. Tell
me how I may serve you ; and I repeat, you shall
soon see how zealous I am in my friendship to-
wards you."

" The boon I crave shall speedily be explainers.-*
replied Miss Howard. " Go to the Marchioness
of Campanella : you will easily find out from your
friend Lady Cecilia Urban where the Marchioness
is residing. Tell her ladyship that you come from
one who was once very dear to her— and who,
though having borne another name, is now passing
under that of Frances Howard. Proceed to in-
form the Marchioness that this Frances Howard
has endured the bitterest privations, and that you
yourself have just left her in the wretched cheer-
less garret where for weeks and months she has
dwelt — the most forlorn, the most wretched of be-
ings ! Tell the Marchioness that as a last and only
resource, Frances Howard is about to appear upon
the stage ; and say that she implores, as the only
boon sbe will ever seek at the hands of her lady-
ship, that she will abstain from ever visiting that
particular theatre on any night when Frances
Howard has to perform. Will you do this for CJ^
Ellen f"

" I will," was my answer. " I will go at once !
But shall I not first of all transfer you to the home
which I offer ?"

"No, no!— leave me here until you return!"
3xclaimed Miss Howard. " But promise that you
iDill return, Ellen ?— Oh, promise me this much ?
I know not what the Marchioness of Campanella
may say to you : but in any case you pledge your-
self to come back to me? For if you return not,
Ellen, I shall consider that I have lost the only
friend whom I now possess on earth : I shall flee
from this city where I have endured so much
wretchedness, and where my last hope will have
disappeared I"

" 1 promise yoa to return, Frances," I replied :
" Ob, I faithfully promise that under anj circum-
stances I will return !"

I embraced her, and departed. Seeking the
nearest cab-stand, I took my seat in a vehicle and
ordered the driver to take me to Lady Cecilia Ur-
ban's house in Grovenor Square. "While proceed-
ing thither, I reviewed all that had occurred with
my unhappy friend ; and I felt assured that her
history, if ever made known to my ears, would bo
fraught with a wildly romantic and fearful interest.
There was something terribly ambiguous in that
awful allusion which she had made to the com-
panionship of the living with the dead ; and I
knew not whether to regard it as a literal fact
or as a strange and stupendous allegory !

Grosvenor Square was reached ; and I at once
obtained an interview with Lady Cecilia Urban.
She welcomed me in the kindest manner ; and I
could not help thinking it was most singular that I
should thus be on terms of even intimate friend-
ship with one whom, on the first occasion I ever
saw her, I fancied i could never possibly like. I
inquired whether she had seen anything more of
Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ? — and she answered
in the negative. He had made not the slightest
endeavour to procure another interview with her,
or to obtain her forgiveness — doubtless because he
well knew that he had erred to au unpardonable
extent.

182

ELLBN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OV AW ACTEESa.

"I saw you," I said, as if quite in a casual
manner, " in company with the Marchioness of
Campauella at the theatre last evening ."

"And I was delighted, my dear Ellen," replied
Lady Cecilia, " to behold the brilliant triumph
which you achieved. The Marchioness — who is
herself an English lady, though married to an
Italian nobleman — was astonished as well as pro-
foundly interested by your performance."

" Has her ladyship been long in England ?" I

"Only a few days," responded Lady Cecilia
Urban. " The Marquis and herself became ac-
quainted with some friends of mine at Florence
last summer ; and when they arrived in London
the other day, they called upon those friends. It
was at their house that I thus met the Marquis
and Marchioness ; and it has been a source of
pleasure to me to show her ladyship every atten-
tion; for she is a very amiable person. The Mar-
quis himself is an agreeable man — young and
good-looking — with polished manners, and of the
highest reputation. He dined last evening at the
Tuscan Embassy; and therefore her ladyship ac-
companied me to the theatre."

" Do they purpose to make a long stay in Eng-
land P" I asked, still speaking as if in a pu-.ely
conversational manner, though with a secret hope
of eliciting the information I sought without
being compelled to put the query point-blank.

" They will doubtless reside in London for some
months," rejoined Lady Cecilia. " At present
they are staying at Mivart's Hotel : but the Mar-
quis is looking out for a house."

I remained a little longer in discourse with Lady
Cecilia Urban, so as to avoid exciting the suspi-
cion that I had called for any other purpose than
that of seeing her in pursuance of the friendly in-
vitation she had given me on the memorable day
ot Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's exposure. On
taking my leave of her ladyship, I re-entered the
cab, and ordered it to be driven to Mivart's Hotel.
There I inquired if I could see the Marchioness of
Campanella ?— and the waiter, taking my card,
hpnded it to a lacquey who was lounging in the
hall, and who by his appearance was evidently an
Italian. He ascended the stairs with the card ;
but in a few moments returned, requesting me to
walk up. I was shown into a handsomely fur-
nished apartment, where the Marchioness of Cam-
panella rose from a sofa to receive me. The Mar-
quis was not present. Her ladyship was dressed
in an elegant deshabiHee ; and she looked exceed-
ingly fascinating. The agreeable impression she
had made upon me on the preceding night at the
theatre, was completely conBrmed ; for sweetness,
kindness, and benevolence of disposition were in-
dicated by her looks and manner. I have already
said that though not faultlessly beautiful, she
was still something more than good-looking ; for
though her features could not be put to a hyper-
critical test, yet her face, regarded as a whole,
might be denominated lovely. It was particularly
in the softness of the clear blue eyes and the ex-
pression of the mouth — which, when she smiled,
isvealed a faultless set of teeth — that the witch-
ing attractiveness existed. There was no pride
libout her — merely the proper bearing that be-
liiaie her rank and position; and I should add
luat she possessed a melodious voice.

I began to apologise for intruding upon her
ladyship : but she interrupted me in the most
aSable manner, by asking, " Is it indeed Miss
Traflford whom I saw last night, that I have now
the pleasure of receiving ? Yes — it must be !—
and I consider myself honoured by a visit from
one whose talent I had so much reason to ad-
mire."

I thaiiked her ladyship for the manner in which
she was pleased to speak of me; and sitting down
with her upon the sofa, I said in a serious voice,
" It is not on my own account that I have taken
the liberty of thus introducing myself to the Mar-
chioness of Campanella."

" Whatever your object may be. Miss Trafford,"
she affably replied, " I cannot do otherwise than
rejoice at an event which has procured me the
pleasure of your acquaintance. But your look
has grown serious ?"

" I come to speak to your ladyship of one whom
you have formerly known, and I think in circum-
stances very different from those in which she is
now placed. She is one," I continued, " whom you
knew under another name — but she now bears that
of Frances Howard."

I noticed a rapid change coming over the coun-
tenance of the Marchioness as I thus spoke : she
grew exceedingly pale — her features denoted much
inward agitation— there was a faint sound from
her lips, as if between a, gasp and a sigh — and
then tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

"Do you know. Miss Trafford," she asked, "the

real name of her But, Ah ! is it possible ?"

suddenly ejaculated the Marchioness : " surely that
name of Frances Howard is not altogether un-
familiar to my ears ? Yes ! I remember ; — a lady
of that name is to make her appearance to-night
before a public audience "

" It is so," I rejoined ; " and the Frances
Howard on whose behalf I come to your ladyship,
is the same who will this evening take the first
step that is to earn for her a livelihood !"

The Marchioness wept; anrl for upwards of a
minute she was so agitated that she could not give
utterance to another word. I felt deeply for her
I felt deeply likewise as I thought of Frances
Howard ; and the tears were trickling down my
own cheeks.

" What did she bid you tell me ?" at length in-
quired the Marchioness of Campanella: and she
endeavoured to control her emotions.

" Miss Howard "

"Miss Howard?" ejaculated the Marchioness
" But proceed — proceed !"

" Miss Howard," I continued, " bade me inform
your ladyship that for some months past she has
been enduring the most terrible privations— in a

miserable lodging And this is true, my lady !

—for I myself have seen her there !"

" Grood heavens ! is all this possible ?" mar-
mured the Marchioness, for a moment making a
gesture as if she were wringing her hands. " But
yes— it must be ! — how could it be otherwise ! Oh,
the unhappy girl ! Proceed, Miss Trafford : tell
me everything — let me know the worst, whatever
it be !"

" The worst, so far as I am acquainted with it,"
I continued, " is already explained to your lady-
ship ; for I ought in all frankness to observe that
I am entirely ignorant of the circumstances

ElilEIT PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AIT ACTBES3.

183

which plunged Miss Howard into so dread a con-
dition of penury. For months past she has lived
in solitude and in wretchedness — friendless, as if
she were society's outcast; and now, as a last re-
source, in order to save herself from starving —
for she is too proud to accept that which she looks
upon as eleemosynary charity, — as a last resource,
I say, she is about to appear upon the stage."

" I understand. Miss Trafford !" said the Mar-
chioness, still weeping. " She has found a friend
in you !— you would have done much for her, but
she would not permit you ; and through your in-
terest she has procured an engagement. Oh ! I
thank you ! — sincerely do I thank you ! But
what more have you to tell me on her behalf?"

" Miss Howard craves of your ladyship a single
boon," I proceeded to observe, — " the last which
she will ever demand at your hands. It is that
on those nights when she makes her appearance
before a public audience, your ladyship will ab-
stain from being present at the theatre,"

"O Beatrice!— unhappy Beatrice !" murmured
the Marchioness : " has it come to this, — that you
should dread to appear in a position from which
you would shrink if the eye of your sister were
upon you ?"

" Her sister ?" I ejaculated, in amazement.
'^Is it possible "

" Yes, yes — I am her sister !" replied the Mar-
chioness. " The same father was the author of
our being : but we had different mothers. Ah ! I
see. Miss Trafford, that Beatrice— for that is her
real Christian name — has told you nothing of her
antecedents. And no wonder ! Alas, it is indeed
no wonder that she should have been thus
silent !"

"She gave me not her confidence, and I did
not seek it. It was suiEcient for me," I con-
tinued, " that she came to me in sorrow and afflic-
tion "

" Oh 1 and unworthy of the name of woman
should I be," exclaimed the Marchioness, " if I
did not imitate so noble an example ! Yes, yes-
it must be sufficient for me likewise that she is in
sorrow and affliction — and all the past must be

forgotten ! I will go to her But, Ah ! my

husband !"

The Marchioness of Campanella sank back upon
the §ofa from which she had half sprung up ; and
for a few moments she remained absorbed in re-
flections that were evidently deep and painful.

" I hope," I said, in a gentle voice, " that there
will be no barrier to the execution of your lady-
ship's generous purpose. You have spoken of the
past which must be forgotten : but surely, surely
there has been nothing criminal in the life of her
whom you call Beatrice and whom you have
acknowledged to be your sister ? — Ah, I remem-
ber ! She declared that if aught fell from your
lips to impair the good opinion which I had
formed of her, she would on my return tell me
everything ; and she alluded to horrible things !
Ob, believe me, my lady, she is very, very un-
happy ! — and it is next to impossible that with a
mind so agitated as hers, she can achieve success
in the sphere which she is about to enter !"

" I declare to you most solemnly, Miss Traf-
ford," answered the Marchioness, " that if 1 were
to obey the dictates of my own heart, I should
speed at once to Beatrice — I should clasp her in

my arras — and I should assure her that where I
dwell, there henceforth is her own home. But I
am bound to consult the wishes of my husband.
To me he is all kindness, all goodness, all affection :
but in one respect he is stern and peremptory —
and he has commanded that the name of Beatrice
shall never again be breathed in his presence.
Oh ! now that I have said so much, how can I
possibly conceal from you the truth ? Yes— —
alas that I should be compelled to make the rave
lation ! — Beatrice has erred; her name is covered
with dishonour ; she has disgraced the family to
which she belongs; and heaven knows that you
spoke ere now only too truly when you said that
she seemed as if she were society's outcast !"

The profoundest mournfulness settled upon the
countenance of the Marchioness of Campanella as
she gave utterance to these words; and I reflected
painfully for some minutes.

'•'But are you sure," I ejaculated at length,—
"is your ladyship convinced that your sister Bea-
trice has indeed erred ? What meant she by de
daring that if from your lips anything should fal
to prejudice her in my estimation, she would revea.
everything, although it would harrow her soul with
horror ? But yet her words could be taken in only
one sense — they could mean but one thing, — and
this is that she possesses the power of vindicating
herself,"

The Marchioness shook her head mournfully ;
the tears again flowed from her eyes : but hastily
wiping them away, she said, " Listen, Miss Traf-
ford ! You are acting the part of a friend ; and
you must be made acquainted with everything. We
may then consult how we may best serve the in-
terests of the unhappy Beatrice ; and you, in the
charity of your disposition, will look mercifully
upon her you will not cast her off altogether ?"

"Heaven forbid!" I exclaimed ; "and unless
the explanations which your ladyship is about to
give me, carry incontrovertibility on the face of
them — unless, indeed, the evidence be too conclusive
to admit of a doubt — I shall endeavour to suspend
my judgment until I have heard the answer from
the lips of your sister Beatrice."

" Nothing can exceed the generosity of your
conduct," replied the Marchioness, taking my hand
and pressing it warmly. " But listen while I give
the promised explanations. — My father," continued
the Marchioness of Campanella, " was an English
gentleman, who in the earlier part of his life pos-
sessed a handsome fortune : but partly by calamity,
and partly by extravagance, he lost the greater
portion of it. This happened in the lifetime of his
first wife— my mother. They had not been mar-
ried more than two years ; and I was aa infant of
a few weeks old when the blow struck them. My
father's mansions were seized by his creditors ; and
my poor mother sank under the misfortune. She
died, leaving me an infant unconscious of the ter-
rific loss which I thus sustained. Gathering toge-
ther the wrecks of his property, my father repaired
to Italy; and there, at the expiration of about
eighteen months, he married a second time. In
the gay city of Florence he encountered an Eng-
lish lady who was possessed of considerable pro-
perty ; and he espoused her. Beatrice was the off-
sprin;^ of this union. My father did not profit by
past experience : he plunged again into a course of
extravagance as well as of reckless speculation;

and the result vras the wreck of a second fortune.
He died of a broken heart,— I being at that time
about twelve years of age, and Beatrice a little
past nine. Our mother, with the small income
that remained to her, brought us to England, where
our education was completed. She almost deprired
herself of necessaries in order to do her duty towards
us ; for she was a woman of a strong mind — she was
ambitious likewise — and she aimed at brilliant
matrimonial alliances for ourselves. But when
the time came that she might introduce us into
society, she encountered all the obstacles that arose
from the seclusion of that life which she had been
leading. She was without friends : her own
parents had long been dead, and she had no
near relations. She had not even the wealth
which is one of the surest introductions into what
is termed good society in England. She there-
fore resolved to return to Florence, where she had
been well known, and where she hoped to find
many of her former acquaintances and friends.
Besides, her income, which was nest to downright
poverty in England, would be comparative wealth
in Italy ; and thus every consideration prompted
this return to the Tuscan capital. We arrived
there. I am now speaking of a period of about
five years ago, — Beatrice being then in her
eighteenth year. My mother's calculations were
not erroneous : she was welcomed back again into
the best society of Florence j and in due time she
bad the satisfaction of beholding the Marquis of
Campanella paying his addresses to myself. I
loved him : we were married ; and, as I ere now
assured you, Miss TraflFord, his demeanour towards
me has ever been fraught with kindness and affec-
tion. But I am now about to enter upon those
explanations which specially refer to taj sister
Beatrice."

Here the Marchioness paused ; and I awaited
with no small degree of suspense the continuation
of her narrative.

" It was about two years ago," proceeded the
Marchioness of Campanella, "Beatrice beiog then
twenty-one, that her beauty — for she was emi-
nently beautiful. Miss Trafford — attracted the no-
tice of the Count of Carboni. This nobleman was
a widower— considerably older than Beatrice— but
intellectual, and immensely rich. He had travelled
much : he had lived for several years in Paris and
in London; he spoke the French and English
languages with as much fluency as his own native
Italian. My mother-in-law— Beatrice's own mother,
remember — had been wondering how the loveliness
of her daughter could have hitherto failed to
secure an eligible offer for her hand ; and she had
even begun to despair, when the Count of Carboni
presented himself as a suitor. But Beatrice re-
ceived his addresses with coldness— indeed with as
much repugnance as her gentle nature could pos-
sibly suffer her to display Her mother remon-
strated : Beatrice threw herself, sobbing and weep-
ing, into her arms, confessing that she loved another.
Tue object of this love of her's was named Angelo
Marano ; and he was a subaltera in a regiment of the
Tuscan army. He had nothing but his lieutenant's
pay : but he was young and handsome— of a dispo-
tion singularly romantic and enthusiastic — and of
Unblemished character. Thus, for many reasons,
there appeared to be a far greater fitness in an al-
liance between Beatrice and Angelo Marano, than

in a marriage with the Count of Carboni. But the
mother of Beatrice viewed not the matter in this
light. She was ambitious ; and if she had expe-
rienced the satisfaction of seeing myself, her step-
daughter, wed rank and fortune,— how much more
eagerly did she cherish the hope of securing for
her own child an equally brilliant alliance ? There-
fore, the tears and representations of Beatrice were
of no avail : her mother sternly commanded that
she should receive the addresses of the Count of
Carboni; and by some means or another — most
probably through the interest of the Count himself
— she procured the removal of the regiment to
which the young lieutenant belonged, to the gar-
risen of Leghorn. To what extent Beatrice
had pledged herself to Angelo Marano, I cannot
tell ; and I am equally ignorant of whatsoever may
have taken place between them at parting — or
whether they even obtained an opportunity at all of
bidding each other farewell : for I was absent from
Florence at the time, being with the Marquis at
a chateau which he possesses on the slopes of tho
Apennines. The first intimation which I received
of the progress of my stepmother's intrigues in
respect to Beatrice, was a letter from that step-
mother, announcing that my sister had been
wooed and won by the Count of Carboni, and that
a day was fixed for the solemnization of the nup-
tials. The Marquis and myself made all possible
despatch to return to Florence, to be present at
the ceremony ; and though I was previously ac-
quainted with the Count of Carboni, and
wondered that Beatrice should accept the hand
of a person at least fifteen years older than her-
self, I was nevertheless far from suspecting that
her consent had been extorted by the mingled
threats and entreaties of her mother. Therefore,
on arriving in Florence, I was amazed as well as
afilicted to behold how great a change had taken
place in my sister during the three or four months
that had elapsed since I last saw her. Her mother
evidently manoeuvred as much as possible to pre-
vent us from being alone together : but I felt con-
vinced that Beatrice was unhappy, and that there
was some mystery which I could not fathom — so
that I studied to find an occasion to speak to her
on the subject. Beatrice was calm but mournful :
she seemed to be nerved with a cold despairing re-
signation; and the thought stole into my mind
that she was under the influence of some terrorism
or coercion. By degrees, and with considerable
difficulty, I elicited from her lips the fact that
she loved another, and that she had yielded to
her mother's threats and entreaties when giving
an assent to accept the Count of Carboni as her
husband. I was both indignant and afflicted ; and
I offered to remonstrate with her mother : but
Beatrice implored me to suffer matters to progress
without my interference. She said that it was
too late — that she accepted her destiny — and that
she would accompany the Count to the altar. I
did not like her looks or her manner :— not that
they were unkind towards myself ; but methougbt
there was something unnaturally cold in thein—
sometliing that was more akin to blank despair than
to a placid resignation. But Beatrice vowed that
her mind was made up — that she had ceased to
think of Angelo Marano— and that she would there*
fore wed the Count of Carboni."
Here the Marchioness of Campanc-lU agaii)

paused ; and I awaited with increased suspense the
issue of a narrative, which was so replete with a
Bftd interest, and in which all my sympathies were
enlisted.

" The marriage took place," proceeded the Mnr-
chioness : " and methought during the ceremony
that Beatrice looked happier than was altogether
consistent with the tale she had told me of her
blighted love and of her mother's coercion. The
Count bore away his bride to a splendid chateau
which he possessed in the southern part of Tus-
cany, near the frontier of the Roman States ; while
the Marquis and myself returned to our country-
seat on the outskirts of the Apennines. My step-
mother did not long live to enjoy the satisfaction
she doubtless experienced at having thus succeeded
in her matrimonial project with regard to Bea-
trice: for in a few months after the celebration of
the marriage she paid the debt of nature. At her
funeral Beatrice and I met again : I had no
No. 24.— Ellen Peect.

reason to bi^Iieve that eoe was unhappy in her
position of a wife; and when, after the ohsequie?,
I aflfectionately and delicately questioned her on
the subject, she answered tranquilly that her hus-
band treated her with love and kindness. Wo
again separated : but in a few months time we met
once more in Florence, where she and her husband
as well as the Marquis and myself came to our
town-mansions for the winter season. During all
that period I saw nothing in the manner or con-
duct of Beatrice that could at all prepare me for
the dreadful catastrophe which was destined to
occur. But let me hasten to bring this sad, sad
narrative to a conclusion. The memorable date to
which I am about to allude, bslongs to the month
of September of last year. At that time
the Marquis and myself were staying at our
country-seat in the Apennines : Beatrice was with
her husband at the C'lateau of Carboni on the
southern frontier of Tuscany. All of a sudden

186

ELLEN PEKCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

a frightful rumour reached the ears of the
Marquis and myself. The Count of Carboni
bad acquired unmistakable proofs that he was
dishonoured in his wife, for that she had re-
viewed her acquaintance with Angelo Marano. The
■report came to us in so vague a manner that we
knew not what to think of it. We hastened to
riorence for the purpose of ascertaining additional
particulars there, through the medium of some of
the Count Carboni'e friends; for 1 trembled to
write to Beatrice under the circumstances. At
Florence we were informed that it was indeed all
but too true. The Count of Carboni had discovered
Angelo Marano in the apartment of Beatrice ; and
availing himself of the right— though a terrible
one — of an outraged husband, he had slain the
young lieutenant on the spot. The tidings affected
me so cruelly that I was thrown upon a sick bed;
and for some weeks I remained unconscious of all
that was passing in the world around me. When
I began to recover, my husband gradually broke
to me the result of the deplorable dranla. The
guilty Beatrice had fled frorn the chateau of Car-
boni—nobody knew whither. The Count himself
remained there in complete seclusion, rendering
himself inaccessible to the friends who called from
the neighbourhood or journeyed thither from Flo-
rence to sympathize with him. The catastrophe
occurred, as I have told you, Miss Trafford, in
September last : it is now verging towards the end
of February ; and during that interval of between
five and six months I have not again seen the
■Count of Carboni— nor had I heard any tidings of
Beatrice until this day."

The Marchioness ceased. She had been speak-
ing in a voice that was profoundly mournful, and
ber narrative was frequently interrupted by an
outburst of tears. When the tale was ended, a
silence of some minutes reigned between us. I
meditated on all that I had heard ; and at length
I said — but hesitatingly, and with mistrust in the
supposition that I myself was advancing, — " May
it not be possible, after all, that your sister the
Countess of Carboni was really innocent — that
some little levity may have been taken for crimi-
nality—and that circumstantial evidence may have
combiced against her ?"

" Would to heaven that I could think so !" said
the Marchioness mournfully. " But no. Miss
Trafford !— it is impossible to blind myself to the
nature of the facts which constitute so crushing
an amount of evidence against my unfortunate
sister ! And I perceive by your look that you
yourself do not believe in the hypothesis which
from the kindest and most charitable motives you
have put forward."

" And now what will you do, my lady ?" I in-
quired. " Granting that your sister has erred, is
she to remain for ever unforgiven ? Consider the
circumstances of the case — her own blighted affec-
tions — a mother's cruel coercion — the bitter
punishment which Beatrice has since experienced
—poverty even to starvation "

" No, no ! tell me not," almost shrieked forth
the Marchioness, " that she has known distress so
dire as thatP'

" It is too true, my lady !" I emphatically
exclaimed. " Not more than two hours have
elajsed since I left your unhappy sister in her
miserable home— if a home such a tenement cau

I be called ! I promised to return to her ; and I
I shall do so. She may be guilty — but she is not
I the less a fellow-creature ! Besides, I shall ho.ir
[ from her lips whatsoever explanations she may
have to give ; and despite the strongest evidence
on the one hand, I am not without a hope on the

I other "

I " My dear Miss Trafford," exclaimed the Mar*

I chiopess of Campanella, " my mind is made up

I how to act! It is perhaps all the more fortunate

that Beatrice has resolved to go upon the stage;

I for the idea of any such public appearance would

I more than anything else move my husband to do

'. something in her behalf. With all his good

I qualities, he has a certain pride ; and I know that

be would hot for the world have it whispered that

I one so nearly connected with myself has been

1 abandoned by her family and forced to adopt such

I means fOr a livelihood. It is this same pride on

I his part which revolted so strongly against the

, bare thought of the disgrace which Beatrice had

brought upon herself, and by reflection upon the

family to which she belongs. Yes! — something

shall be done for the unhappy Beatrice ! My

husband will return shortly — I will plead my

sister's cause — I have no doubt of success ! Would

; it be asking too much, my dear Miss Trafford, to

i beg that you will return again presently — in a

: couple of hours— and. Oh ! doubtless then I shall

j be enabled to accompany you to the abode of her

whom I long to strain in my arms, despite her

errors !"

" Nothing will afford me greater pleasure," I
answered, " than to be your ladyship's companion
for such a purpose. In the meanwhile I will
hasten a'nd prepare Beatrice for a change in her
circumstances: I will not promise too much at
first — I will not tell her that she may expect to
behold her sister — for fear lest by any possibility
there should be a disappointment,"

" I leave everything to your judgment and dis^
cretion," replied the Marchioness of Campanella;
" and accept, my dear Miss Trafford, the assurance
of my deep and lasting gratitude for your noble
conduct towards my poor erring sister !"

The noble lady wrung my hand with much
emotion ; and I took my departure. On issuing
forth from Mivart's Hotel, I found the cab wait-
ing for me, as I had directed : but the driver him-
self was not immediately to be seen. A ragged
urchin was holding the horse's head; and 1 asked
him where the cabman was ? But scarcely was
the question put, when the individual himself
emerged from round the corner of the street ; and
hastening towards me, he apologized for his tem-
porary absence. I bade him take me to the
neighbourhood of Clare Market; and I entered
the vehicle. The man mounted his box; and the
cab drove away. I was plunged in profound re-
flection upon everything I had heard from the lips
of the Marchioness of Campanella; and I won-
dered whether it were possible that Beatrice could
successfully vindicate herself against the charges
which pressed so heavily. I confess that I did
not see how she could do so : but still there was
the hope in my mind — and thus I did not alto-
gether prejudge ber.

I was startled from my reverie by the sudden
stopping of the cab ; and I found that it was in a
narrow, ill-looking street where it had thus halted.

EIitEH PEKCT; OR, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

187

The driver opened the door : I alighted, and paid
him his fare— upon receiving which ho instanta-
neously mounted the box and drove away. Being
ignorant of the precise whereabouts of the spot
where he had thus set me down — for I had vaguely
bidden him take me to the neighbourhood of Clare
Market — I looked along the street ; and I now
perceived that another cab had stopped immediately
behind the place whence the one that brought me
had just driven away. The door of that vehicle
was open ; and a couple of men were getting out.
Their appearance struck me as suspicious and
sinister : they looked not as if it quite befitted
their circumstances to ride in a cab. I was moving
away, when one of them hastily accosted me, say-
ing, " Are you looking for any particular place.
Miss ?"

I felt frightened; for although it was in the
broad daylight, yet the street itself was of so low,
poor, and ill-looking a character that the idea
struck me that any respectable female might be
there insulted without the hope of succour. The
man who had accosted me, was dressed in coarse
apparel : he was dirty and unshaven ; and me-
thought he had a villanous aspect. His companion
—who was even more repulsive in appearance than
himself— had now approached so as to be close be-
hind him ; and I saw that they both eyed me in a
peculiar manner. I hastily gave a response to the
question which had been put ; and hoping that my
answer would rid me of this suspicious company, I
turned away.

But what now followed was the work of an in-
stant. No doubt a sign was made to the driver of
the cab which had brought the two men ; for it
immediately drew alongside the pavement, to the
very spot where I had just turned away : a hand
was placed over my mouth — a powerful arm was
thrown round my waist — and the eye had scarcely
time to wink before I was inside the vehicle. One
of the men entered with me : indeed it was he who
had thus suddenly lifted me into it ; and producing
a pistol, he said in a determined voice, " Dare to
give utterance to a word, and I'll dash your brains
out with the butt-end I"

He pulled down the blinds : his companion had
already slammed the door; and the cab drove
rapidly away.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE OLD PAEM-HOUSE.

I TVAS 80 terrified by the words which the villain
had just spoken — and he seemed so thoroughly
capable of executing his hideous menace — that
the shriek which had risen to my lips died away ;
and I felt as if I were about to faint. The man
sat opposite to me, holding the pistol by the barrel,
and looking as if he were in readiness to deal
the threatened blow if the slightest sound should
issue from my lips. Not contented with assuming
this menacing demeanour, he went on giving ut-
terance to threats so horrible, in case I should cry
out, that my brain seemed to be turning with the
sense of the fearful position in which I was placed.
Some of my readers may perhaps marvel that such
an outrage could have occurred in the very midst

of London and in the broad daylight : but those
who know the metropolis well, will comprehend
that such a proceeding was quite possible ; and
my own experiences have made me aware how
deeds of this kind can bo perpetrated, even with
facility.

The vehicle rolled rapidly along; and as tho
blinds were closed, I could not tell in which direc-
tion it was proceeding, though my fears suggested
that it might be towards St. Clair's house ; for I
naturally surmised that he was the instigator of
the outrage. It was some time however before I
could collect my bewildered and affrighted thoughts,
or in any way calm down the terrible agitation I
experienced. Then numerous harrowing ideas swept
through my mind. Could it be possible that the'
wickedness of my persecutors — for I now asso-
ciated Lady Lilla Essendine with Edwin St. Clair
— could have reached such a pitch that they in-
tended to make away with me ? Or was I to be-
held captive until some other villany, which I
would sooner die than endure, was consummated?
In any case what would become of poor Beatrice ?
what would the Marchioness think of my pro-
longed absence after the promise I had given to
return ? For, Oh ! even amidst tho frightful
perils which seemed to threaten myself, I was not
without thought for others,

Tho vehicle drove at a rapid rate, as I have
already said ; and I began to reflect whet'aer it
would not be better for me to risk anything at the
hands of the villain who was sitting opposite, than
to resign the only chance of bringing persons to
my assistance. I was on the very point of giving
vent to a piercing scream for help, when the wretch
— who had for the last few minutes remained
silent — appeared suddenly to divine my thoughts.
With a terrible imprecation he lifted tho pistol,
declaring that he would beat out my brains with-
out pity and without remorse, if I dared to cry
out.

I sank back appalled, speechless, and powerless,
beneath the weight of an overwhelming^ conster-
nation. Some time again elapsed before I could
collect my ideas ; and then the man, peeping
through the blind, said with a grim smile, " Your
chance is past now, Miss: for we are outside of
London."

" Suffer me to depart," I said, mustering up
courage to address the fellow, " and I will re-
ward you handsomely !"

The man shook his head, and observed, "It
won't do. Miss ; and you'd better hold your
tongue."

In spite of this injunction, I continued to urge
and plead, entreat and implore, until the man cut
me short with a savage command to be silent. I
again sank back in the vehicle, well nigh spirit-
broken : I felt so truly wretched that death itself
would have been welcome — and all my taste for
life seemed gone !

An hour, perhaps, had altogether elapsed from
the moment when I was thrust into that vehicle,
— when it stopped. The man drew up the blinds;
and I saw that I was in the open country— -but in
which neighbourhood of London I was utterly
ignorant. The cab had halted at tho door of a
house, which was large, but of dilapidated appear-
ance. It seemed as if it were an old-fashioned
farm homestead, with high pointed roofs, and

massive stacks of chimnejs. It w&a built of dingy
red bricks ; the windows were few, small, and of
the lattice description. At the hasty glance which
I thus threw at the place, I could not discern any
blinds or curtains to those windows ; and indeed
the first impression made upon me, was that the
house must be uninhabited.

The door of the cab was quickly opened by the
companion of the man who had lifted me into it,
and who had therefore ridden by the driver on the
box. I was desired to alight; and the instant my
feet touched the ground, the cab drove rapidly
away. The man who had been my companion,
grasped me with some degree of Tiolence by the
arm, — saying, "Now, young Miss, you must walk
ia here."

The other man had in the meanwhile unlocked
the door of the house : I flung a hasty look
around, in the hope that there would be some
human being within sight to whom I might shriek
forth for succour : but I beheld no one except the
two ruffians who had me in their custody, and the
driver of the rapidly retreating cab.

" You need not use violence," I said to the man
who had clutched my arm with such force that he
hurt me : but my heart sank within me, and the
blood ran cold in my veins, at the thought of what
my doom might possibly be.

"Well, walk in quietly," said the fellow, "and
for my part I won't hurt you."

There was some relief in this assurance, though
it seemed merely to apply to the present instant ;
and the rough hand was at once withdrawn from
my arm. I entered a low, dark, gloomy-looking
place, paved with tiles, and which might probably
have served in other times as the hall of the home-
stead : for on either side there were several doors,
and facing the entrance there was an ascent of
stairs with enormous old-fashioned balustrades.

" Up there, if you please. Miss," said one of the
men ; and I began ascending the stairs. " Take
care," he added ; " for they are old, ricketty, and
broken. It's many a year since this place was
occupied."

" And who occupies it now ?" I asked, eagerly
catching at what appeared to be an opportunity of
obtaining some information.

"You, Miss!" replied the man; — and then both
he and his companion burst out into a laugh.

The reader may be assured that I had no inoli-
natiou to put another question. The staircase was
involved in almost complete obscurity ; and my
feet tripped against the broken pieces of the steps.
On reaching a landing, one of the men threw open
a door ; and I beheld a tolerably large chamber,
poorly yet by no means uncomfortably furnished.
Scarcely however had I glanced into it, when one
of the men bade me enter ; and when I obeyed
him, he said, " If you would take my advice, you
would avoid sci'eatiiing out of the window : be-
cause one of us will be down below, and it will be
the worse for you if you make any noise. Some
one will bring you up things to eat and drink pre-
eently,"

The door was then closed and locked upon me ;
and I found myself alone in that chamber. All
the furniture was new; but, as I have before said,
it was of a homely character, fitted for the cottage-
residence of poor people. The bedstead and toilet-
table were of common painted wood ; there were a

couple of cane-bottomed chairs ; there was anothei
table of an ordinary description, in the middle of
the room ; a piece of grey drugget covered about
one-third of the floor ; and there were green cur-
tains, of a coarse stuff, to the two small latticed
windows. These windows had bars to them ; and
a single glance was sufficient to show me that they
had only been very recently put up. The ceiling
and the walls had been freshly whitewashed : the
floor had been cleansed : there was not the
slightest doubt that all these preparations which I
have described, had been but lately made; and my
fears suggested that it was a prison-chamber ex*
pressly arranged for my reception,

I looked through one of the casements, and
found that the room was situated at the back of
the house. There was a smali yard, surrounded
with outbuildings sadly dilapidated and falling fast
into ruins. An opening between those buildings
showed me an enclosed space that had evidently
once been a farm-yard ; and it was so surrounded
by barns as to impede the farther view. I sought
to obtain a glimpse of the metropolis; for I
thought that if I could only distinguish the huge
dome of St. Paul's, the Monument, or any other
elevated building, I might form an idea of the
neighbourhood in which this decaying farm-house
was situated. But no ! — the outbuildings were so
placed in reference to the chamber- window, that
the realization of my idea was impossible,

" And even if I succeeded," I said to myself, as
I turned away from the casement with a sickening
sensation at the heart, and with the tears trickling
down my cheeks, " of what avail would it be ? I
am a prisoner ; and little would it serve me to
know on the outskirt of which suburb the place
of my captivity is situated. Oh, that I should
have fallen again into the power of him who per-
has this time will use that power unscrupulously !
Ah, he may kill me ! — and perhaps it is now my
death that he seeks, even as that vile woman, as
fiendiike as she is beautiful, recently sought it!—
but he shall not succeed in dishonouring me !"

I sat down, exhausted by the wretched state of
my feelings. I experienced a sensation of faint«
ness ; and taking off" my bonnet and scarf, I flung
them upon the bed- Then, as an idea struck me,
I suddenly regained my energy; and I looked
under the bed — I looked likewise into an immense
cupboard, the door of which had been recently
painted : but no — I was altogether alone in that
chamber. I was fully satisfied that St. Clair was
the author of this new outrage; and I shuddered
lest it should be the last, I mean that I trembled
with a cold horror lest he should at length triumph
over me, and that naught but my death would
satisfy him, since I was resolved to perish sooner
than degrade myself !

While I was in the midst of my saddening re-
flections, I heard footsteps advancing along the
landing: the door was unlocked — and the old
gipsy-woman made her appearance. She had evi-
dently been followed thither by on9 of the men,
who however remained upon the landing. Was it
that he feared lest the old woman should yield to
my entreatries— or lest, goaded to desperation, I
should suddenly fly at her, overpower her, and
endeavour to efiect my escape ? Her hideous
countenance was serious and inscrutable : she
spoke not a word as she advanced into the room,

carrying a tray in her hands. This tray she de-
posited upon the table : she then retired, still in
profound silence: the door was again closed and
locked upon me — I heard the retreating footsteps
of the old woman and the man. The tray con-
tained a loaf of bread, somo butter, and some
boiled eggs with a small jug of beer. I espe-
rienced not the slightest appetite : but the sight of
the beer reminded me that I was thirsty. I would
not however touch that liquor, for fear lest it should
be drugged ; and I found water on the toilet table.
I drank copiously, and was refreshed.

The appearance of the old gipsy-woman had
confirmed my suspicion— if any such confirmation
were needed — that I was again the victim of St.
Clair's rancorous persecution. But her presence
had likewise inspired me with a hope. I thought
to myself that where the old woman was, the
granddaughter might possibly not be far off: and
I fancied — or at least I clung with a despairing
tenacity to the idea, that I had a friend in Zarah.
I looked at my watch : it was now two o'clock in
the afternoon : it was the very time when I ought
to be returning to the Marchioness ! Oh, what
would she think?— and what would poor Beatrice
think likewise ? There was not woe for myself
alone, as the fruit of St. Clair's conduct : there
would be woe for others. For, alas ! not antici-
pating such a terrible calamity, I had omitted tc
inform the Marchioness of Campanella where her
unhsppy sister dwelt.

And now I began wondering when St. Clair
would make his appearance to dictate his terms to
me. Most probably one of the men— those hired
instruments of his — had gone to make him aware
that the plot so cunningly contrived to entrap me,
had succeeded — that I was safe and secure in my
prison-house— at his mercy! No doubt I might
look for a visit from him in the course of that
same day : he was not the man to sleep over the
projects which he contrived with so diabolical a
skill and by such unscrupulous means I

Time passed on. It was five o'clock — and the
gipsy-woman again made her appearance, — on this
occasion to bring a candle, which she placed upon
the table. Glancing at the tray, she perceived that
the food remained untouched: she said not a word,
but she left it there. She then quitted the room :
and again I heard the heavier footsteps of the man
in companionship with her own. I was now so
faint that I was compelled to partake of a piece of
bread ; and in nervous suspense I kept on wonder-
ing and wondering whether Zarah were with her
grandmother at the old farm-house, or whether she
might not be far away at the cottage in Warwick-
shire. My thoughts fluttered over a variety of
subjects— hopes and fears commingling — but the
latter painfully predominating. I felt that if I were
to remain in such a condition of mind for many
hours longer, it would be more than my brain could
support : it would reel — it would give way — I
should go mad.

Again I heard footsteps approaching on the
landing : this time they were different from those
which had previously reached my ears : the door
opened— and St. Cluir made his appearance. There
was a terribly wicked smile of triumph upon his
lips ; but there was also a certain resoluteness in
his luok ; and as he closed the door behind him,
he stood ne&r it for a few instants to contemplate

me. My cheeks flushed with a sudden inoi "'^*'''''"
at beholding my relentless persecutor. TheZ" ^
felt that they became ashy white ; for the idea
struck me that it was indeed scarcely probable for-
tune would continue favouring me over and over
again, by enabling me to escape time after time
from the power of this bold bad man.

"Ellen," he said, at length breaking silence,
" again we meet. You have on many occasions
evaded and baffled me : but now it is my turn to
triumph. Did you think— self-sufficient girl that
you are ! — that I had for ever abandoned my hopes
and my designs with regard to you? No, no!—
even if from this heart of mine I could tear away
your image— even if from my soul I could pluck
out the passion with which you have inspired me—
there is nevertheless another reason why you must
become my victim. Or I will use a different term
if you will : I will say the companion of my life—
my mistress — your own interests to be identified
with mine ! Ah, interrupt me not ! — argue reason-
ably if you can : but suffer not your indignation
— your prudery, I will call it — to rise up as a bar-
rier between us. I said there was another reason :
you doubtless comprehend my meaning. You have
obtained an insight, in some unaccountable way,
into certain secrets, which, I do not attempt to
deny, are of vital import to myself "

" Stop, Captain St. Clair !" I ejaculated, as an
idea struck mej and inspired with the courage
arising therefrom, I continued to speak firmly and
with an air of confidence. " Listen to me I You
think that you have me in your power ; and so
far as my captivity in this isolated dwelling-
watched by your hired braves— is concerned, you
are right. I am in your power! But your
wickedness will speedily experience a terrific and
overwhelming punishment "

" Threats, my dear Ellen — mere idle threats !"
exclaimed St. Clair scornfully. " I despise them !
You must know that I am playing a desperate
game; and, by heaven! it shall be played out!
You shall be mine !"

" Listen to me, I say !" — and I spoke vehe-
mently. "Eest assured that you will do well to
hear what I have to explain. You are a man of
many projects, each one more iniquitous than the
former ; and I, knowing you to be my enemy,
have taken my precautions. You may kill me.
Captain St. Clair; but fearful will be your punish-
ment! Ah, you started at that word J5;•ec■(,'.^';oi^».•
but I will tell you what I mean — and you may then
judge for yourself whether they are well taken."

" Speak quick, Ellen !" he exclaimed ; " for I
am impatient of this parley :" — but at the same
time I could perceive that there was a certain
uneasy curiosity and suspense in his mind.

" To a faithful friend," I continued, speaking
with a solemn seriousness, " I have consigned a
packet. It is sealed ; and it contains a full state-
ment ot all that I know in respect to yourself — all
that I know in respect to Lady Lilla Esscndine—
yes, and it contains likewise a certain letter— a

letter written by that criminal woman Ah ! I

see by your countenance that you have heard from
her lips the fact that this letter was in my posses-
sion I"

" Proceed, proceed !" interjected St. Clair, with
a visibly increasing uneasiness, despite his endea-
vours to conceal it.

190

EtLEH PBECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OV A» ACTEB8S.

c .aat sealed packet," I continued, "I have
.jnfided to the hands of a friend ; and I 8aid at the
I time that if ever I should remain for twenty-four
hours absent from my home without sending a
' written explanation to account for my absence,
this friend of mine was to consider that I was the
victim of treachery at your hands. My farther in-
junctions were to the effect that, in the case which
I have named, the seal of the packet was to be
broken and its contents were to be read. Need I
add, C.»ptain St. Clair, that on the perusal of those
contents this friend of whom I am speaking will
' appeal to the law — not merely on my behalf, but to
I bringyourself to ju»tice ? And therefore. Captain
St. Clair, you may now kill me if you think fit : you
may add another deed of turpitude to the black
catalogue of your crimes — you may even surround
with the deepest mystery the murder of myself:
but, oh ! for all your former misdeeds there will
be exposure and there will be punishment !"
' St. Clair looked aghast as I thus spoke. The
tale that I told relative to the sealed packet and
the solemn injunctions to a friend, was a mere
fabrication, suggested at the instant by the de-
sperate circumstances in which I was placed : but
the reader will doubtless admit that it was a venial
as well as justifiable falsehood. I had hardly dared
hope it would have the effect which I now saw
that it produced : St. Clair believed it fully, and
he was frightened,

"You taunted me just now," I continued,
" with the belief that you would abandon your
hopes and designs concerning me : but it is for me
to taunt you with having rushed madly into a new
crime towards me in the infatuated confidence of
your own self-sufficiency. Did you suppose that I
should fail to adopt precautions, when all past ex-
perience had shown me how desperately persever-
ing you could be in your wickedness ? No ! — and
as for your pledge, made on a certain memorable
evening — not very long ago— in St. James's Park
— not for an instant did I believe it ! My precau-
tions have therefore been taken; and if that packet
be once opened, the consequences are inevitable —
the hand of justice fastens itself upon Captain St.
Clair !"

He seemed thoroughly irresolute how to act :
his scornful self-sufficiency, his haughty confidence
in himself, were gone. He was pale, and he
trembled. But at length an idea seemed to strike
him ; and he said contemptuously, " Do not trust
too much to your friend Norman. Within two
hours from this present moment the packet shall
be wheedled from his possession ■"

" Again does your accustomed astuteness fail to
serve you," I replied, assuming an air of confidence
as well as of scornful defiance in proportion as
having carefully felt my way, I acquired the as-
surance that I was treading on safe ground. " You
think to ascertain from my lips the name of that
friend to whom I have confided the packet : but
you will not succeed in learning it. It is not Mr.
Norman — neither is it Mr. Richards : but it is to
a professional man — a solicitor — a man of resolute-
ness and determination, who will do his duty, if
by circumstances he be called upon to act."

" Of course you mean Parks ?" said St. Clair,
almost contemptuously, as he felt convinced that
he bad fathomed the secret.

" Mr. Parks is a villain 1" I rejoined : " and he

knows my opinion of him. If you have not
learnt this much from his lips, you hold less com-
munication than I had fancied with those who are
the instruments of your vile purposes."

Again St. Clair looked bewildered : he felt him-
self baffled and defeated at every point. He was
about to say something more, when he suddenly
turned upon his heel and quitted the room. He
locked the door behind him ; and his footsteps re-
treated hastily along the landing.

"What did he now mean to do ? At one moment
my success had seemed certain : I had expected to
hear him sue for terms and implore my continued
secresy in respect to his misdeeds, as the condition
of my immediate release. Ah ! doubtless he was
going to consult with Lady Lilla Essendine ?
Perhaps they would say to each other that they
had better risk everything, even the assassination
of myself, than suffer me to go again into the
world after this new outrage which had been per-
petrated against me. And now I blamed myself
for having in my fabricated tale represented so
long an interval as that of twenty-four hours be-
fore the pretended packet was to be opened. Yet
I had not inconsiderately speci&ed this period : I
had done so because I thought that it would
seem more consistent with truth. I had fan-
cied that it would appear improbable if I had
particularized a shorter period of disappearance
as a signal for exciting so much alarm in the
mind of the friend to whom, according to my
statement, I had entrusted the packet. I could
not therefore injustice blame myself for any over-
sight, inconsiderateness, or deficiency of astute
policy.

Sut what meant St. Clair to do ? Had he in
reality gone to consult with Lady Lilla Essendine P
Oh ! if I were to be left to her mercy — if my lite
were to depend upon her decision — adieu to all
hope ! I knew that a woman whose soul is
thoroughly nerved to crime, becomes even more
desperate and unscrupulous than the most criminal
of men : one of my own favourite characters — that
of Lady Macbeth — afforded, though but the poet's
creation, a striking example of that truth.

Time passed on : it was now seven o'clock in
the evening. Seven o'clock!— and in another
hour Beatrice would have to appear at the theatre
—that is to say, unless her spirit were completely
crushed by the thought that I had wilfully broken
my promise to return and that I had deliberately
abandoned her. I was terribly uneasy on her
account as well as on my own. A hundred times
did I rush to the window with the intention of
shrieking for assistance : but the dread of those
two ferocious-looking men restrained me. I en-
deavoured to console myself in respect to Beatrice.
I said, " When she found that I did not return,
she doubtless sought me in Hunter Street : she
must have there learnt that I had not been home
since the morning ; and she will think that I am
still engaged entirely on her own business."

And yet I could not thus satisfy my mind. I
knew that the pride of Beatrice would prevent her
from seeking me again, if she fancied that I had
voluntarily and intentionally deserted her. In a
word, I was tortured by every species of horrible
idea, not only relative to myself, but respecting
Beatrice likewise.

It was at seven o'clock that I last consulted mj

ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE ME3IOIE3 OF AN ACIEESS.

191

watch ; and it was a few minutes afterwards that
I heard a sound as if of some one moving in an
adjacent room. I started up, and listened. Were
the murderers coming ? The blood stagnated in
my veins at the thought. I was looking towards
that side of the room in which the cupboard was
situated, when the cupboard door opened, and a
female form made its appearance. So dim was
the light of the single candle, that I did not imme-
diately recognise who it was : but the lowly mur-
mured word "Hush !" was wafted to my ear; and
the next instant hope thrilled to my heart, as I per-
ceived that it was Zarah. She was dressed differ-
ently from the style of her apparel on the former
occasions that I had seen her. She wore a dark
stuff gown, which displayed her robust but well-
proportioned shape to considerable advantage ; her
jetty black hair was carefully arranged in bands;
she had white hose and neat shoes ; and altogether
she looked absolutely handsome. 1 have in a former
chapter noticed how superb were her large black
eyes— of what cherry redness were the full lips —
and how white as ivory were the teeth : I also said
on a previous occasion that she bad a look of bold
hardihood though by no means insolent : but even
that hardihood itself was now tempered down, as if
by the refining influence of some new and different
sentiments which had taken possession of her soul.
StiU, notwithstanding the i: provement which in
every respect now characterised her, it would have
been impossible, even if I thus beheld her for the
first time, to mistake her gipsy origin. There was
the swarthiness of the complexion— there was the
lustreless coal-blackness of the hair, which was to-
tally deficient in natural gloss — and there was the
peculiar vividness of light in the large eyes, which
denoted the Zingaree.

Hope, I said, thrilled through every pulse as I
thus recognised Zarah ; and she advanced towards
me. I was about to catch her by the hand to wel-
come her as my deliverer, when the thought sud-
denly struck me that she as well as her mother
must be cognizant of the crimes which had been
committed by Edwin St. Clair and Lady Lilla
Essendine, and that they were even accomplices in
those crimes. It was thus that at the very moment
when Zarah's presence was most welcome, I expe-
rienced a species of shock — my soul seemed to re-
volt from the woman who stood before me. She
however did not appear to notice what was passing
within me: but she hastened to say, "Miss Percy,
again will I endeavour to befriend you."

"A thousand, thousand thanks 1" I ejaculated,
with a real enthusiasm ; for all in a moment my
dislike towards Zarah was absorbed in a sense of
gratitude for this new service which she offered to
render me.

" Hush !" she said; " speak not too loud ! My
grandmother is on the watch ; and the two men are
likewise still in the house. Hasten to put on your
bonnet and scarf — and follow me."

I lost no time in obeying Zarah's directions.
The cupboard-door was standing wide open : she
took the candle in her hand, and led the way. I
now perceived that there was an inner door, which
likewise stood open and cocamunicated with the
next room; so that what appeared to be a cup-
bjard was in reality a species of recess between
the two apartments, with a door on either side.
Xhe inner door she closed, both of ua still remain-

ing in the recess. Then she produced a large
nail J and this she thrust into the key-hole, where
she worked it about with some violence for a
few moments, evidently to give the lock the ap-
pearance of having been forced and hampered.
This being done, she opened the door again, and
lifted it off its hinges : for these were of the kind
which allowed that process to be adopted. This
she did because there was a bolt on the inner side ;
but it was not so firmly put on as to prevent the
door from being thus lifted upward to the extent
of an inch, which would really have been quite
sufficient to remove it altogether, even supposing
that the whole process had been performed by my-
self from my own side of that door, and that the
bolt had not been previously drawn back on the
other side. We passed into the next room, which
was completely denuded of furniture : the walls and
ceilings were blackened and damp ; and in several
places the plaster had fallen in. There was a door
on the farther side of this room : Zirah took a key
from her pocket, and locked it. Then, with a
large nail, she forced off the lock — which she threw
down in the room, together with the nail itself.

"Now, Miss Percy," she said, " yoa will in a
few moments be at freedom. Perhaps you are un-
aware of the neighbourhood in which this house is
situated ?"

" I am entirely ignorant," was my response.

" And I dare not offer to guide you : I cannot
leave the place for such a purpose," continued
Zarah. " Attend however to my instructions.
On gaining the road— or rather the bye-lane, in
which the house stands, you will see lights at a
distance. Proceed in that direction ; and in about
a quarter of an hour you will reach the vicinage of
Highbury. You can then inquire your way. But
while threading the lane, should you hear the
sounds of a horseman advancing, retreat into the
adjoining fields — or hide yourself in some manner
— for fear lest you should fall in with Edwin St.
Clair. And now, before we part, I have two
favours to implore of you."

" Whatever you may ask, I am bound to con-
cede," was my reply : " but I sincerely hope that
this time you will not stipulate — — "

" Yes— I must stipulate for secrecy!" she in-
terrupted me. " You know not perhaps the im-
mensity of the service I have this evening ren-
dered you ; and it is not too much for me to im-
plore silence and secrecy on your part."

" You assuredly have a right to dictate," I re-
joined; "and it were the height of ingratitude for
me to hesitate in yielding obedience to your in-
junctions."

" I expected no other answer from your lips,"
said Zarah. " Yes, Miss Percy — again must I en-
join your forbearance in respect to Edwin St.
Clair. That is one favour which I solicit at your
hands; and you have already granted it. The
other is that you will afford me an interview to-
morrow, at the hour and place which you maj
think fit to name."

I was about to bid the gipsy call upon me in
Hunter Street; but a second thought reminded
me that the singularity of such a visit would
necessitate some explanations to Mr. and Mrs.
Norman, and that these I could scarcely give
without alluding to the circumstances that had
rendered me acquainted with Zarah. I accord-

193

ELLEW PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OE AN ACTEE83.

ingly said, " Can you not come to me to-morrow
evening at the theatre ? The piece in which I am
to perform will be over by ten o'clock : I shall
then be in my dressing-room : you can send up
any name you think fit — I shall know whom it re-
presents— and you will immediately obtain admit-
tance to me. Pardon me for suggesting that it
would be better perhaps if you were to wear a veil

over your countenance "

" I accept the appointment, Miss Percy," inter-
rupted Zarah : " and rest assured I shall come in a
manner which will not in any way compromise
you, nor engender gossiping surmises concerning
the object of such a visit."

" And now, before we part," I said, " permit
me to renew the assurance of my deep gratitude
for this as well as the former services you have

rendered me "

"To-morrow evening," replied Zarab, "I shall
ask you a boon, which will fully acquit you of any
obligation towards me. And now follow me."

She opened the door, from which she had so dex-
terously wrenched off the lock; and the light of
the candle which she still carried in her hand, re-
vealed a small passage, with a narrow precipitous
staircase leading down to the ground floor. She
made a sign for me to descend as gently as pos-
sible,— she herself still leading the way. At the
bottom of the staircase there was a door, which
was merely bolted ; and before she opened it, she
extinguished the candle. We were thus left in
utter darkness ; and now I coufd hear the sounds
of voices in some neighbouring room. They were
those of the two men who had brought me to the
old farm-house. I could likewise hear that Zarah
had deposited the candlestick on one of the lower
steps of the staircase : then she cautiously drew
back the bolt, and opened the door.

"Turn the corner to the right," she hastily
whispered : and I stepped across the threshold, —
the door instantaneously closing behind me.

The reader wUl have seen that all the details
attending this escape of mine, were so well con-
trived by Zarah as to have the appearance of being
effected by myself alone, without any assistance
from a friendly hand. Supposing that I had really
found that large nail in my prison-chamber, it
would seem as if I had used it to unlock the inner
door of the cupboard, so as to be enabled to lift
that door off its hinges despite the bolt on the
opposite side— that I had next used the nail to
wrench off the lock from the door of the adjoining
apartment— that having descended the staircase, I
bad found the door at the bottom, and that I had
extinguished the candle ere issuing from the
house.

In obedience to Zarah's direction, I turned the
corner of the building : I passed along the side of
the house; and a gate in alow paling admitted
me into the lane. The evening was dark : but I
could perceive lights twinkling at a distance of
apparently about half-a-mile; and I sped in that
direction. The lane was lonely ; and 1 shuddered
with apprehension lest, my escape being discovered,
I should be pursued by St. Clair's hired ruffians.
I ran forward at the utmost of my speed : but not
many minutes had I thus advanced, when the
sounds of a gallopping horse's feet came upon my
ears. Fortunately there was a gate close at hand ;
and I rushed into the field to which it led. Crouch-

ing behind the hedge, I nevertheless remained suf-
ficiently near the gate to be enabled to watch tho
road. The horseman galloped past : and the ob-
scurity was not too great to prevent me from dis-
cerning that it was Edwin St. Clair. He waB
proceeding towards the farm-house ; and I thought
to myself, " He has decided upon my fate : but,
heaven be thanked I he is again baffled and
defeated in his intentions, whatsoever they may
be."

I did not dare return into the lane ; I knew
that in a few minutes St. Clair would discover
my escape, and a pursuit would be instituted.
There was a path across the fields; and as there
were many lights glimmering ahead, it led in the
direction of some of them. I was not long in
reaching an avenue of villa-residences; and a
glimpse of a policeman's uniform suddenly set all
my apprehensions at rest ; for succour was thus at
hand in case of necessity. Assuming an air of
composure, I inquired my way to the nearest
cab-stand ; whereupon the policeman informed me
he had just seen an empty cab at the door of a
public-house about a hundred yards along the
avenue— but that if I failed to secure it I should
most probably have to walk as far as Highbury
Gate, which was nearly a mile distant. I thanked
him, and hurried on towards the public-house.
There I was fortunate enough in obtaining the
Tehicle to which he had alluded ; and I gave the
requisite instructions to the driver.

It was my intention to proceed first of all to
the theatre, in the hope of finding Beatrice there :
but I had my misgivings— for I remembered the
declaration she had made that if I returned not
according to my promise, she should abandon a
city where she had known so much misery. Thus
during the drive I was so full of anxiety and 8U8>
pense that the agitation of my mind almost com-
pletely absorbed the sense of joy and gratitude at
my escape from the old farm-house. At length
the theatre was reached ; and a hasty glance at
my watch showed me that it was now nine o'clock.
On alighting at the private entrance, I hastily put
a question to one of the underlings who was
loitering there.

"Has Miss Howard made her appearance?"
was the query ; and I dreaded what the answer
might be.

"No, Miss," responded the underling; "and
there was immense disappointment—"

" But she sent some letter— some message per-
haps ?"

" Yes, Miss : and Mr. Richards could not under-
stand it. She said that circumstances prevented
her from keeping her engagement, which she there-
fore begged to decline. This was at about six
o'clock — a notice was posted up——"

" But what did Mr. Richards do ?" I inquired,
with feverish anxiety, for I was cruelly afflicted.

"He didn't know where the lady lived. Miss,"
responded the underling: "he sent up to ask you
—but you were not at home. Mr. Norman said
that you were most likely passing the day with
some acquaintance : he named Lady Lilla Essen-
dine, I think— —I know that a message was sent
off somewhere — and still you were not to be found.
But I am sure, Miss, that Mr. liichards will be
glad to see you; for the notice was posted up toj
late to prevent the crowds from gathering when

ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

193

=E'|l|li'i#!'li'i|i

iiii'>

the doors opened. There was terrible disappoint-
ment "

" It is too late for me to do any good by seeing
Mr. Richards," I hastily interrupted the man, " Go
and tell him as well as Mr. and Mrs. Iforoian that
I have just called, and that I am gone to Miss
Howard's residence."

I reentered the cab, and was driven into the
wretched street at no great distance, where the
house in which Beatrice had lodged was situated.
Hastily entering the shop, I inquired of the old
woman whether Miss Howard was ut home — though
1 felt painfully convinced that the answer would be
in the negative.

"At home. Miss?" she exclaimed. "She's
gone !"

" Go^ !" I gasped forth — not in astonishment,
but in * ter grief.

" Yes — she went away all of a sudden," conti-
nued the woman. "Let me see— it must have
No. 25. — Ellen Pebct.

been at about half-past six. She paid me a week's
rent, instead of giving me the usual notice ; and I
thought the poor creature spoke in a queer voice,
though I couldn't see her face, for her veil was
folded two or three times over it ■ ■"

" Poor Beatrice !" I inwardly murmured.
" My God ! what has become of you ?"

" Slie went away on foot, Miss, with a little
bundle in her hand," proceeded the woman. " I
think she was very poor : she must have seen
better days— she was quite the lady ! She was
nearly always indoors uutil lately : she always kept
herself respectable, and had no followers of any
kind. In fact, I have never knowed her name till
you called this morning."

I tarried to hear no more — but rushed out of
the shop, fie-entering the cab, I ordered it to
drive to Mivart's Hotel. My grief was greater
than I can describe: I wept bitterly— I sobbed as
if my heart would break .- tbe idea tliat poor Bea-

194

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE jMEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

trice must fancy that I had abandoned her, and
that she had rendered herself an outcast — perhaps
a homeless wanderer — was something so shocking
as to drive me almost to despair. It was in the
most miserable frame of mind that I reached
Mivart's Hotel ; and it cost me a gigantic eflfort to
compose my feelings so far as outward appearances
went, while I inquired of the waiter if I could see
the Marchioness of Campanella.

" Her ladyship has been asking if a lady of the

name of Miss Trafford "

" It ia I," was my hasty response.
The waiter summoned the Italian lacquey ; and
he at once conducted me up to the apartment
where I had seen the Marchioness in the morn-
ing. Her ladyship was again alone ; and as she
hastened forward to receive me, I could see that
she was a prey to considerable agitation.

" Thank heaven, you have come at last !" she
exclaimed. " Has anything happened ?"

I was now completely overpowered by my feel-
ings. I threw myself on the sofa, and sobbed
violently.

" Oh, Miss TraflEbrd ! Miss Trafford !" cried the
Marchioness ; " for Grod's sake keep me not in

Buspense ! My poor sister "

" She is gone !" I gasped forth : and I could say
xio more, for my voice was choked with sobs.

" Gone F" ejaculated the Marchioness, " Oh,
no!— do not tell me that she has fled! Just

heaven ! This wild grief of your's "

" Oh !" I exclaimed, " it is not my fault ! Kcit
for worlds would I have abandoned her !" — and I
literally wrung my hands in despair. "But she
is gone— she has fled, I know tiot whither ! Sue
has left not a trace behind !"

The Marchioness clasped het handi3, giving vent
to moans of anguish ; and the tears gushed forth
from her eyes. FoP some minutes the grief of
both was violent : but at length we composed our-
selves partially— sufficient at least for conversation
— though I cannot describe how painfully broken
it was, and how frequently interrupted by fresh
outbursts of tears.

" When I left your ladyship this morning," I
said, " it was to hasten back to Beatrice : but in
the very neighbourhood of her abode, I was seized
upon yes, seized upon — in the broad day-
light— thrust into a vehicle, and hurried away.
Astounding as the tale may seem, I solemnly de-
clare that it is true !"

" Ob, Miss Trafford !" exclaimed the Mar-
chioness, "no such assurance is necessary from
your lips ! But good heavens ! such an out-
rage "

" Yes, my lady," I continued : " there is a per-
son— I need not mention his name — who has made
me the object of his bitter persecution, because I
have rejected his overtures. Suffice it to say, how-
ever, that I have been held in captivity until this
evening. On regaining my freedom — thanks to
friendly intervention — I sped to the theatre.
Beatrice had not appeared! I hastened to her
lodging : she had fled, no one knows whither !"

" Oh, Miss Trafford, this is a terrible calamity !"
said the unhappy Marchioness. " I pleaded success-
fully with my husband — his conduct was most
generous — we waited together hour after hour,
expecting your return ! Unfortunately we knew
not where Beatrice dwelt: but we felt certain that

you were with her. When eight o'clock came, and
you made not your appearance, the Marquis set
off in search of you. He said that he should first
call at the theatre ; and if he heard nothing satis-
factory there, he should proceed to your own abode
in the hope of finding you. Now, what is to be
done ? — what course are we to adopt towards dis-
covering the unhappy Beatrice ?"

" This is the only course I" I exclaimed, as a
sudden thought struck me; and speeding towards
a writing-table, I hastily penned the following
words : —

" To Beatbige. — You have acted under a mis-
take ; and you are implored to communicate at
once with your sincere friend in Hunter Street."

" Let this," I said, " be inserted as an advertise-
ment in all the newspapers. It is now our only
hope. God grant that it may be fulfilled! —
Ah!" I ejaculated, "there is yet another chance!
Beatrico may have sent some communication to
me at my own residence. I will speed thither;
and if there be any good tidings, I will immedi-
ately return. But if your ladyship should not see
me again this evening, you must conclude that I
have nothing favourable to impart."

I took my leave of the Marchioness of Campa-
nella, and hastened to Hunter Street. There was
no letter for me : but I learnt that an Italian
gentleman had called within the hour to inquire if
I were at home. This I knew, from what her
ladyship had said, must be the Marquis of C impa-
nella. The Normans returned j and I endeavoured
to wear a somewhat composed demeanour in their
presence. From what the underling had told me at
the theatre, I had seen that the Normans were
not particularly surprised at my absence ; and I
suffered them to believe that I had passed the day
with Lady Cecilia Urban. They of course spoke
of Beatrice, whom they only knew however by the
name of Miss Howard; and they asked if ^ could
explain her conduct P I said that I had seen her
in the icQorning — that she, was much excited— and
that under all circumstances I was not astonished,
though much grieved, at the breach of the engage-
ment. Mr. Norman informed me that the audience
showed symptoms of anger at the disappointment;
for Mr. Eichards had filled the newspapers with
puffs and had covered the walls with placards rela-
tive to the expected debut. He was compelled to
go forward and make a speech, which had the
effect of quieting the audience.

I retired to bed that night as completely mise-
rable as ever in my life I had been. Hours elapsed
ere slumber visited my eyes : and when it at length
came, it was restless and feverish— filled with
visions, in which the pale pensive countenance of
Beatrice appeared to be gazing in saddest reproach-
fuhkess upon me.

CHAPTEE XXXV.

ZAEAH.

Iif the evening of the following day I made my
appearance at the theatre in the character of Mrs.
Beverley iu " The Gamester." Ah i I can assure

ELLEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OE AN ACTEES9.

195

the reader that I was at the instant compelled to
exert preterhuman efforts to compose ray mind
BuflSciently for the task that I was thus forced
to undertake : but the state of my feelings soon
gave a terribly truthful vividness to my personifi-
cation of the character. I was inspired by a real
grief— filled with a veritable agony. In the most
effective parts I still kept thinking of Beatrice ;
and that audience of thousands of people little sus-
pected how much there was of natural woe in my
performance that night. Immense though all my
previous triumphs had been, they were eclipsed by
this one : but when I retired to my dressing-room,
I had barely time to dismiss the lady's-maid on
some pretext, before I burst out into a complete
agony of sobbing and weeping.

The paroxysm of my anguish was only just
passed, when my maid returned with the intima-
tion that a female, who gave some name — I now
forget what it was — desired to see me. Snowing
it was Zarah, I ordered that she should be imme-
diately admitted ; and in a few moments she made
her appearance. A dark veil concealed her coun-
tenance. She was dressed plainly but in a most
respectable style ; and no one who had seen her
enter the establishment, could have suspected that
she belonged to the gipsy race. I bade the maid
retire again ; and I was left alone with Zarah.

"You succeeded. Miss Percy," she said, "in
escaping last night from the notice of Edwin St.
Clair as he returned on horseback along the
lane."

"Yes — I avoided him," I responded. "But,
tell me, Zarah — did your stratagem completely
succeed ? did he fail to suspect "

"He suspected not my complicity," answered
Zarah. " Nothing could exceed his rage when he
found that you had taken to flight : but he was
not the less astonished at that which he naturally
conceived to be your extraordinary presence of
mind — your perseverance in overcoming difficulties
— in short, the whole details of your escape. His
vexation was indescribable. You may suppose.
Miss Percy, what it must have been when I tell
you that for weeks past he had been settling his
plans to ensnare you at that old farm-house. He
had the room furnished and fitted up for your re-
ception : he ordered the bars to be put to the
windows ; and when his arrangements were
complete, he employed those two men to watch
your movements and avail themselves of the first
opportunity to seize upon you and carry you oflf.
It was only two or three days ago that he wrote to
my grandmother to come up to London: but he
specified not in the letter for what purpose he re-
quired her services. We arrived in the metropolis
the day before yesterday; and according to St.
Clair's directions, we took a lodging on the out-
skirts of Highbury. His object was that we
should wait there until your capture should place
my grandmother's^ services in requisition. Thus
you see that we were not many hours in the me-
tropolis before the message came to bid us repair
to the farm-house. It was only on setting foot
within the walls of that place, that we learnt the
object for which we had been summoned from
Warwickshire. Best assured, my dear Miss Percy,
that if I had previously known how St. Clair was
once more plotting against your peace and safety,
I should have sent you due warning."

" I feel convinced that you would have done wo,"
was my answer. " But tell me, Zarah — why have
you thus interested yourself in me ?"

The gipsy, who had raised her veil, fixed her
large dark eyes upon my countenance, and said,
" Can you not give me credit for good feelings, —
feelings of friendship "

"Pardon me for saying," I interrupted her,
" that I think you have some deeper motive. St.
Clair evidently fancies that in all these machina-
tions of his he can rely upon your assistance as
well as that of your grandmother "

" Yes, yes — he may entertain the idea !" ex-
claimed Zarah, with mingled vehemence and bit-
terness : " but he is mistaken — and you see that
he is ! Perhaps, Miss Percy," she continued, in a
slower tone and with a reflective manner, " he is
not quite so desirous of having my succour and
complicity in these projects of his as he may ap-
pear to be. But he cannot dispense with the ser-
vices of my grandmother, — who has been, and still
is, an unscrupulous agent of Edwin St. Clair's ;
and whithersoever the old woman goes, I am bound
to accompany her."

" Yes, Zarah," I said, seriously and reservedly
— for I experienced a sudden return of that strong
loathing with which the gipsy's presence had in-
spired me on her first appearance in the prison-
chamber ; " I am afraid your grandmother has in-
deed proved an unscrupulous agent "

" Ah, I see what is passing in your mind. Miss
Percy !" interrupted Zarah, as she half started
from her seat, while her eyes flashed with sudden
and wild fires, and her countenance grew crimson
with the warm blood mantling through the duski-
ness of her complexion : " but you wrong me ! I
myself have been no accomplice in a crime !"

" Zarah, if this be true," I exclaimed fervidly,
" you know not with what pleasure I receive the
assurance : for I had every reason to be grateful
towards you — the sentiment of gratitude is itself
closely allied with friendship— and it would be im-
possible to entertain such friendships-^"

" I comprehend you. Miss Percy. But enough,"
continued Zarah : " there is naught in my charac-
ter which may shock you to that extent. It is
true that whatsoever has happened has become
known to me — no matter how : true also that I
have held my peace — I have put a seal upon my
lips, instead of proclaiming to the world or whis-
pering in the ears of justice all that has thus come
to my knowledge. In this respect perhaps I may
be criminal in your eyes "

" Alas !" I said ; " how dare I think so when to
a certain extent I myself am enabled to suspect
the nature of those awful mysteries which enve-
lope St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine as with a
dark cloud ? Yet on mi/ lips also is there a seal ;
and it is you, Zarah, who have placed it there !"

" True, Miss Percy !" rejoined the gipsy ; " and
you remain silent because gratitude towards me
forces you to respect the injunction which I gave
in that sense. Can you not therefore understand
that there may be motives of an equally strong
nature — even much stronger perhaps — that bind
me to silence ? My aged grandmother, for instance
— think you that I would involve her "

" Enough, Zarah !" I interrupted her : " this
subject is too painful for further discussion. As
for myself, I am indebted to you in a thousand

195

ELIKN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIBS OF AW ACTHES3.

ways. Twice have you preserved my honour, and
perhaps my life — first at the cottage in Warwick-
shire, and then at the old farm-house. For these
reasons alone do I feel myself bound to testify my
gratitude according to the modes which you your-
self may dictate. But you have done more: for
the suggestion you gave me in that note which
you tossed into the window of the post-chaise as I
was returning from Embledon, enabled me most
efiectually to baffle St. Clair in a project that would
have stamped mj unbappiness for the remainder
of my life !"

The reader cannot fail to understand that I al-
luded to that scene in St. James's Park when my
father was rescued from the power of Edwin St.
Clair.

" Therefore," I continued, " my deepest grati-
tude is your due for the manifold services which
you have rendered me ; and believe me, Zarah, I
am incapable of proving ungrateful. But you said
just now that you were bound to follow your grand-
mother whithersoever she goes?"

" Yes — it has been so," replied the gipsy ; " but
it need not be so henceforth. I will explain my-
self. My grandmother is subject to fits of a most
dangerous and distressing character — which seize
upon her suddenly, striking her down as if by a
lightning-flash, and making her writhe in horrible
convulsions- For this reason has it been necessary
that I should ever remain near her ; and she has
not dared travel without me. But now there is
another girl of our tribe whom she has taken
to be her attendant, her companion, and her nurse ;
and I am freed from the hideous restraint in which
that duty kept me. I will tell you frankly. Miss
Percy — my soul is sick of the schemes and intrigues
to which that old woman lends herself. Imagine
not that I am paying you an idle compliment or
administering a fulsome flattery, when I declare
that your example produced its impression upon
me. I heard you spoken of as the personification
of virtue as well as of beauty and of talent ; and
a person must be lost and depraved indeed who
could be brought in contact with so estimable a
being as you are, without experiencing a salutary
influence. During the last few weeks I have re-
flected solemnly and profoundly upon many things ;
and I have at length resolved to take a particular
step, to the furtherance of which I crave your
assistance."

I listened with considerable interest to this
speech of the gipsy Zarah : indeed I was to a cer-
tain extent touched by it ; and I said, " You may
calculate upon my succour for any good object
which you have in view."

" Before I proceed," said the gipsy, as a recol-
lection appeared to strike her, " suffer me to make
a single observation in reference to a topic which
you yourself ere now spoke of as a painful one.
My grandmother has not been altogether so guilty
in her complicity with certain persons as you may
suppose, and indeed as you have reason to ima-
gine. Let me illustrate my meaning by an ex-
ample taken at random. Suppose that I enter an
apothecary's shop and inquire for a drug that will
throw a person into a deep sleep ; the apothecary
sells me this crug ; but I use it in a quantity ari
in a manner which produces the eternal sleep of
death. Could you in such a case tax that apothe-
cary with direct complicity in the extreme crime

that had been committed ? You understand me.
Miss Percy ? And now not another syllable upon
that point !"

" No, not another syllable !" I said, shuddering
at the unmistakable corroboration which Zarah'a
words had just furnished of the dark suspicions
I had previously entertained in respect to Edwin
St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine. " But I am
glad you have told me all these things ; for can-
didly do I confess that my feeling has become
warmer and less alloyed towards yourself. And
now proceed, Zarah — tell me what project you
have formed, and in which way I can assist you P"

" I have separated from my grandmother," re-
sumed the gipsy ; " and I have taken apartments
in the metropolis. I possess ample means — I ask
you not therefore for pecuniary succour "

" And if you were to ask it," I emphatically in-
terjected, " it would be most readily afforded to
the extent of my ability."

" I know it. Miss Percy," replied Zarah ; " but
it is not assistance of that kind which I require.
Listen ! You may perhaps be surprised— you may
perhaps regard my statement as ludicrous, when £
inform you that I am determined to instruct my
mind — to educate myself — yes, even to the acquir-
ing of accomplishments. But I am ignorant how
to effect this aim. Why should I hesitate to con-
fess that I seek to render myself a lady in man-
ners, in bearing, and in tastes P It is my ambition
to study all refining influences — to gain that gloss,
that polish, which may in a measure mitigate, if
not altogether conceal, the rudeness, the coarse-
ness, the uncouthness which have been necessarily
associated with my wandering and restless mode of
life. In a word. Miss Percy, I seek your assist-
ance in indicating the literature which I ought to
study — in recommending me masters who will in-
struct me — and in devoting an occasional hour to
conversation with the humble gipsy, so that from
your own exquisite refinement I may catch some
beams of that civilization into the sphere of which
I am so anxious to enter."

It was with mingled wonder and interest that I
listened to this strange speech ; and I could not
help admiring the lofty purpose that the gipsy had
in view. I therefore readily promised to afford the
assistance which she required ; and I at once drew
up a list of works which I considered would be
best adapted for her perusal and study. In respect
to masters, I gave her the requisite suggestions
for obtaining the assistance of such preceptors in
the neighbourhood where she was residing ; and I
assured her that I would from time to time call
upon her, to watch the progress of her studies,
and afford her such further hints as might be re-
quisite for the accomplishment of her design.

" Before we part," said Zarah, who had thanked
me cordially for the readiness with which I
seconded her views, " let me speak another word
in reference to St. Clair. I should be wrong to
throw you off your guard by expressing the opi-
nion that, after so many failures, it is scarcely
probable he will again enter upon plots or in-
trigues to make you his victim : but all that I can
do is to recommend an exceeding caution — and I
would especially bid you beware of Lady Lilla
Essendine."

" Rest assured, Zarah," I answered, " that I
shall continue more than ever on my guard."

EllBS PEHCY; OE, THB MEMOIBS OP AN ACTEE38.

197

She then took her departure .; and when she was
gone, I reflected upon nil that had tiken placa be-
tween us. "While riding home to Hunter Street,
I resolved upon carrying into effect the very idea
which I had merely adopted as an artifice and as
a tale to frighten St. Clair at the farm-house. Ac-
cordingly, on the following day, immediately after
breakfast, I committed to paper everything that I
knew or suspected in reference to St. Glair and
Lady Lilla Essendine ; and this statement, together
with the fragment of the letter, I enclosed in an
envelope, which I carefully sealed. But when my
task was thus far accomplished, I knew not to
whom to entrust the packet, with the requisite in-
structions for making use of it in case of neces-
sity. Mr. I^orman was indeed the only friend to
whose hands such a duty could with propriety be
assigned ; and if I were to speak to him on the
subject, it would necessitate explanations to ac-
count in some way or another for a request that
would otherwise appear most singular. And then,
too, I remembered that the adoption of such a
course would be to a certain extent a violation of
the pledge of implicit secrecy that I had given to
Zarah ; while the very result itself, in case of the
extreme emergency, would be seriously compro-
mising both the gipsy and her grandmother. Be-
wildered therefore how to act, I locked up the
packet in my desk, determining to reflect more
seriously on the matter before taking any decisive
step— and at all events to consult Zarah in the
first instance.

In the afternoon I proceeded to visit the Mar-
chioness of Campanella ; and I found — as I had
only too sadly expected— that she was utterly
without tidings of Beatrice. The advertisements
had appeared in the newspapers of that same day
only ; and thus there was no time as yet to judge
whether they were likely to produce any efiect.
The Marchioness was in exceeding low spirits; for
she was fondly attached to her sister Beatrice, and
she was filled with apprehensions lest the unhappy
young lady should in her despair have put a period
to her existence. I was introduced to the Mar-
quis of Campanella — a fine, tall, handsome man,
of distinguished appearance. He treated me with
the utmost courtesy, and expressed his gratitude
for my kindness towards his unhappy sister-in-
law.

" There was one little incident," I said in the
course of conversation, " which I omitted to men-
tion to your ladyship when we previously spoke
together upon the circumstances of her in whom
we are all interested."

I then proceeded to explain how Beatrice had
suddenly encountered that cloaked individual, of
whose features I had obtained so imperfect a
glimpse by the gas-light near the private entrance
to the theatre.

" It must have been the Count himself!" ejacu-
lated both the Marquis and Marchioness of Cam-
panella, as if speaking in the same breath.

" And yet," added the Marquis, " I was utterly
ignorant that the Count of Carboni was in
London !"

" The ejaculations which burst from the lips of
Beatrice and of that cloaked individual," I pro-
ceeded to remark, " were in the English lan-
guage."

" They habitually epoke English," replied the

Marchioness ; " for I think I told you, my dear
Mi-ss Trafford, that the Count of Carboni bad
dwelt some time in England; and he speaks your
native language with the samn fluency as his own.
Yes — from all you have told us, that person-
age could have been none other than the bus-
band of Beatrice! His age is about forty; his
complexion is dark, even to swarthiness ; his eyes
are brilliant, flashing with a peculiar light, and
with an expression that some may deem sinister."

"Then, my lady," I responded, "that indi.
vidual whom your sister Beatrice encountered,
could have been none other than her husband."

"He must know that we are in London," ob-
served the Marquis of Campanella ; " and why
should he thus avoid us ? Perhaps it is that he
fears lest all his harrowed feelini^s should be ex-
cited in their intensity, by encountering the sister
of the wife of whom he was so proud, and whose
frailty he has had to deplore ?"

" Or perhaps," I added, " he is indeed conscioua
of wrongs towards Beatrice — those wrongs to
which she alluded in such terrible terms, but of
which you yourselves have hitherto remained in
ignorance ? After all there may be more exte«
nuation for the unhappy Beatrice than you, my
lord — or yourself, my lady, have suspected ?"

The Marquis of Campanella only shook his head
gloomily: but the Marchioness ejaculated with
fervour, " Heaven grant that it may prove so !"

I now took my leave ; and having an hour or
two of leisure, I thought I would call upon Zarah,
to inquire her sentiments with regard to the plan
I was wishful to adopt in respect to the sealed
packet. She had hired apartments in a re-
spectable street in the neighbourhood of the Lon-
don University, and therefore at no great distance
from Hunter Street. I found her seated in a
well-furnished parlour, at a table covered with
volumes which she had lost no time in procuring
according to the list I had given her on the pre-
ceding evening. She did not so soon expect a visit
from me, and my presence therefore afibrded her
all the more pleasure. She was apparelled in a
morning deshabillee, which, though plain, was of
a neatness that in itself constituted elegance. It
set off her fine person to the utmost advantage :
her hair, of ebony blackness, and which had no
natural curl, fell in heavy masses upon her
shoulders ; and now that she had thrown off the
gipsy garb and appeared as a lady in a well-
appointed room, she m'.jht be taken for a woman
of Italian or Spanish origin, — unless indeed, a
careful and experienced observer should have
noticed in the eyes that peculiar lustre — wild and
vivid in its brightness — which is so strong a cha-
racteristic of the Zingari race.

I spoke to her of her studies, and gave her a
variety of useful suggestions. I found that she
had succeeded in obtaining the services of a master
to instruct her in those elements of education of
which she only had an imperfect knowledge ; and
she had likewise engaged a professor of music.
She had thus lost no time in entering upon the new
course which she had resolved to adopt. She
spoke with hope and enthusiasm : she was full of
confidence in respect to the issue of her endeavour
to acquire the polish, the gloss, and the refinement,
nut merely of civilized life, but also of genteel
society.

idd

BtLBir FSROT; OB, THB MSM0IB3 OF AS AOTBESS.

When I had sat with her for some time, I
toucberl upon the principal object of my present
yisit. But as I went on to explain what I had
already done in respect to the sealed packet— the
manner in which I was anxious to dispose of it —
and the guarantee that I should thereby establish
for my future safety, or at least for the punish-
ment of those who might proceed to extremes
against me — a cloud gradually came over Zarah's
countenance, and I saw that she grew more and
more distressed.

" I cannot wonder. Miss Percy," she said, " that
you should take these precautions after everything
that has occurred. It is natural ! — it is indeed
only too consistent with ordinary prudence ! But
on the other hand, you cannot fail to perceive that
you are adopting a course which may prove most
dangerous— nay, most fatal to my aged relative
and to myself. You have penned a statement
which, if perused by any friend to whom you may
entrust it, would have the effect of handing Edwin
St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine to the grasp of
justice : at the same time the strong arm of the
law would be extended to clutch my grandmother
and myself." — —

" Alas ! this is but too true, Zarah," I inter-
rupted her ; " and for these reasons I have hesi-
tated to consign that packet to the care of any in-
dividual. I will do nothing that shall compromise
you. I will sooner incur any risk or run any
danger !"

" Stop !" ejaculated Zarah : " there are precau-
tions which can be taken, and which shall be
adopted ! I spoke to you of a young girl of our
tribe who is now in attendance upon my old re-
lative. Yes — Bed a shall be enlisted in our in-
terests ! I wonder that I thought not of this
before ! They are still in London ; and I will see
Beda to-night. Eest assured, Miss Percy, that I
will take measures for your safety under any cir-
cumstances,—measures indeed which in case of
emergency shall be far more effective than any
that could result from the plan which you had pro-
posed to adopt. Should St. Clair or Lady Lilla
Essendine renew their evil machinations against
you— should they succeed in again ensnaring you
in their toils — within the same hour from Beda's
lips shall I learn the calamity. Then fear not for
the result ! As I liave succoured and saved you
before, so will I succour and save you again. Are
you satisfied with this promise?— can you rely
upon my pledge ?"

"I am satisfied, and I am full of reliance," was
my response. " The packet shall be consigned to
the hands of no one ; nor will I do anything that
shall compromise your aged relative or yourself."

Zarah expressed her gratitude for the decision
to which 1 thus came; and I took my leave of her,
with the promise to renew my visit shortly.

As I was descending the stiiirs I heard footsteps
coming down the flight above ; and as the indi-
vidual proceeded more quickly than myself, he
overtook me in the passage leading to the front
door. With true foreign politeness, he lifted his
hat, and moved past in order to upen the door to
give me egress. I was at once struck by his ap-
aparance. The first glance impressed me with tbe
idea that he was the same person whom Beatrice
had so suddenly and so unexpectedly encountered
near the private entrance to the theatre. Tbe se-

cond look which I threw upon him established
this conviction in my mind ; and he fully answered
to the description which the Marchioness of Cam<
panella had given me of the Count of Carboni. I
did not however suffer him to perceive that his
appearance had produced any extraordinary effect
upon me : nor did he seem to know who I was. I
slightly inclined my head in acknowledgment of
his civility in opening the door to let me pass out ;
and I continued my way along the street. But on
reaching the end, I looked back ; and not per-
ceiving the foreigner, I retraced my way to the
house. Ascending to Zarah's sitting-room, I said
to her, " Something has just occurred in which I
think you can assist me. Do you know who lodges
in this house besides yourself ?"

" There is a foreign gentleman," replied Zarah:
" but I do not know his name. He is an Italian,
I believe, from something which the landlady told
me ; and he has a valet. He is reputed to be rich,
but exceedingly eccentric."

" In what manner is be eccentric ?" I inquired.

"His bed-room is over this apartment," con-
tinued Zarah: "his sitting-rooms are on the
ground-floor. I thus have him at times under-
neath and overhead. During the day-time he
paces to and fro in his parlour : I can distinctly
hear the measured monotony of his steps. I have
as yet only slept one night in the house : but cer-
tainly I am not exaggerating when I declare that
for three or four hours he did nothing but walk to
and fro in his chamber, as he had done during the
day-time in his parlour. Many persons would ob-
ject to this ; but to me," added Zarah, with a
smile, "it is a matter of the most perfect indiffer-
ence. He not only paces to and fro in this restless
manner — but he talks to himself: he gives vent to
sudden and passionate ejaculations ; there is either
something very bad upon his conscience, or else
he has sustained some terrible calamity."

" I have particular reasons, Zarah," I said, " for
wishing to know as much as possible about this
individual. Ascertain his name, if you can —
although I think that I am already acquainted
with it. Do not ask me any questions now : I
may perhaps tell you more another time."

" Eest assured. Miss Percy," responded Zarah,
" that I will endeavour to ascertain all I can glean
in reference to this personage: — and with regard
to your motives, you need not apologize for with-
holding them. I know they must ba good ones ;
and I have no undue curiosity upon the point."

I now again took my leave of Zarah, and re-
turned to Hunter Street, — resolving to say no-
thing to the Marquis and Marchioness of Cam-
panella in respect to the incident which kad just
occurred, until I should have acquired a still more
positive certainty that tbe foreign gentleman was
indeed the Count of Carboni.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

IHE PEABFUl PICI0EB.

Is the evening of the following day, I appeared in
tbe character of Portia, in "Tbe Merchant of
Venice." It was in that scene, where I had to
enact the part of an advocate, — that while glancing

EUEIf PEECT; OH, THE MEM0IH8 OP AH ACTEESS

199

towards the audience, I cau^bt a glimpse of a
countenance which made me look more attentively
ii 'he same direction , and there, sure enough, in
a si ie-hox sat the individual whom I considered to
bo tiie Count of Carboni. He was dressed in deep
black, and appeared to be watching with the
deepest interest the progress of the drama. The
Marquis and Marchioness of Campanella were not
present on this occasion : her ladyship had written
me a note in the course of the day, to the effect
that she was too much depressed in spirits on ac
count of her sister Beatrice, to be enabled to wit-
ness my performance of the heroine's character in
" The Merchant of Venice."

I glanced several times towards the foreign
gentleman — yet not in a manner which could lead
him to imagine that I thus specially noticed his
presence. On each occasion I saw that his atten-
tion was riveted upon me ; and I felt tolerably
well assured he must have recognised me as the
one to whom his little act of politeness was shown
on the preceding day. I enacted the part of
Portia with complete success; and another brilliant
triumph was achieved.

On the following day, at about noon, I renewed
my visit to Zarah's abode. Just as I reached the
front-door, it opene 1 ; and a young girl of exceed-
ing beauty came forth. She was not more than
fourteen or fifteen years of age — of moderate sta-
ture— but with a figure of the most perfect sym-
metry. It was slender, yet just beginning to take
the developments of that period when girlhood is
expanding towards womanhood. She was plainly
dressed in a dark stuff frock, a neat shawl, and a
straw bonnet, which enframed a countenance of
surpassing loveliness. Her hair was of ebon black-
ness, without gloss, and neither curling nor wavy,
so far as I could judge: but it was arranged in
bands that were perfectly smooth ; and it was
braided in two long tresses, falling from behind the
back of the bonnet. Her complexion was a clear
transparent olive, with a rich carnation hue upon
the cheeks. Her nose was perfectly straight, and
joining the forehead in the style of the Grecian
profile. Her lips were of pouting fulness— rich,
but not coarse : on the contrary, they were most
beautifully formed ; and being slightly apart at
the moment I thus encountered her, they revealed
teeth of pearly whiteness. Her eyes were large
and dark ; and as their look rested upon my coun-
tenance, methought that there was a strange
witchery in them — not exactly the peculiar wild
lustre which I have already spoken of in respect ^o
Zarah's eyes — but a weird mystic light hovering in
their unfathomable depths. They were superb
eloquent eyes ; and yet they bewildered the be-
holder to conceive what they were thus eloquent of.
They seemed to speak — yet leaving' one as much
in doubt as if listening to a strange language
poured forth in the rich silver tones of a melodious
voice. Yet, altogether, there was something inde-
scribably interesting — I might even say ravishing
and captivating — in the whole appearance of this
young creature. Tha graceful slenderness of her
shape — the dress just defining the nascent contours
of the bust — the uprightness of her form — the ease
of her movements — the symmetrical perfection of
the feet and ankles, which the somewhat short
skirt revealed— the elastic lightness of her steps,
which aeetned akin to the girlish buoyancy of her

spirits — and then the exquisite beauty of that oviil
countenance, with its pure olive complexion, its
rich red lips, its d"licately rounded chin, and the
large mystical eloquent eyes, — all combined to
render this young creature an object o? no ordi-
nary interest the moment my looks settled upon
her.

As she opened the door, she stood back with a
certain air of respect — which notwithstanding had
something free, careless, and spirited in it to
suffer me to pass into the house before she passed
out. I could not help lingering to gaze upon her;
and for a few moments she gazed upon me in re-
turn, with her splendid dark eyes, as if she were
wondering who I was, and as if the interest which
I felt in her was more or less reciprocated. Tuen
she smiled, — her parting lips affording a still better
view of the brilliancy and purity of her small
pearl like teeth ; — and gliding away, she sped along
the street. I followed her with my eyes; I could
not help thus looking after her, even at the risk
of being noticed, and perhaps thought rude or im-
pertinently curious, should she happen to turn and
look back. But she did not; and she went gliding
along with a rapid, airy, sylphid movement, —Uar
shapely feet, arching like those of the accomplished
danseuse, her high well-formed insteps, and the
rounded ankles, exhibiting all the perfection of
symmetry and contour that may be recognised in
the best sculptured efS^ies. At length she disap-
peared from my vie»v round the corner of the
street ; and for a moment I experienced a feeling
that savoured of vexation that I had not spoken to
her : for, as I have already said, she was one of
those rare beings— singular, strange, and striking
in their own perculiar beauty — on whom it is im-
possible to look without at once being inspired
with an extraordinary degree of interest.

And now, as I entered the house and closed the
door behind me, the suspicion flashed to my mind
that the young creature might be one of whom
I had heard before. I really felt anxious to
have the idea verified — or, I should say, to have
my uncertainty cleared up; because in my own
heart I sincerely wished for her sake that my sus-
picion should prove unfounded. On entering
Zarah's room, I found her seated at the table, oc-
cupied with her bojks; but at once rising up, she
welcomed me warmly.

" Had you come but a few minutes earlier. Miss
Percy," said Zarah, " you would have met one
who is already deeply interested in you."

" Ah ! Be la ?" I exclaimed.

"Yes— Beda," responded Zarah. "Perhaps
you saw her ?"

" Yes — I saw her," I rejoined : and I could
not help heaving a profound sigh on finding that
the suspicion which had flashed to my mind was
now completely fulfilled.

" Are you unwell, Miss Percy ?" inquired Zarah
with an air of concern : " or has anything hap-
pened to affect your spirits ?"

" And that is Beda ?" I said, thus giving audible
utterance to my musings : — " Beda, the most per-
fect specimen of girlish beauty that I ever beheld
in my life ! — Beda, a young creature whom one
could love as a sister and watch with the most
jealous vigilance over her welfare !"

" You have become interested in her ?" said
Zarah. "Ah I I understand ! You pity her :

200

ELLGir FBBCT; OB, THE UEMOIBS OF XV ACTRESS.

jou believe that under my grandmother's care she
will not have the best example, nor be kept aloof
from the scenes of temptation and of vice? You
imagine that she will be tutored in all kinds of
duplicities and deceits, so that her youthful mind
will become prepared for the complete abandon-
ment and depravity of a mature womanhood P"

" All this I fear, Zarah," was my seriously
uttered response; "and it fills my mind with
affliction to think that a being who might be ren-
dered one of the world's brightest ornaments, may
only add another name to the long catalogue of
feminine ruin and profligacy."

Zarah reflected profoundly for some moments ;
and then she said, " Yes — it is indeed all but too
true. Until this day I had not seen Beda since
she was a mere child ; and I confess I was as-
tonished at her exceeding beauty. She could not
come to me the night before last : but she came
to me just now — and I have given her full in-
structions according to the promise which I made
you. I spoke to her of you in such terms as to
inspire her with a vivid interest on your behalf ;
and I am convinced that Beda is to be trusted.
She promised faithfully to execute my bidding in
every respect."

" Tell me more about this Beda," I said. " You
have already given me to understand that she be-
longs to the gipsy tribe."

" She is an orphan," observed Zarah, " as I my-
self am. Her parents belonged to what I may term
the higher order of our race. They travelled in a
caravan of their own, and had two horses. They
both died of the fever a few years ago, — since
which time Beda has lived with an old female rela-
tive, who settled in a hut in the neighbourhood of
Tottenham. My grandmother happened to learn
that Beda was not very happy with the old crone ;
and she therefore had no difficulty in inducing her
to come and live henceforth under her protection.
And now you know all. Miss Percy, that I have it
in my power to tell with regard to the young
creature who has so much excited your interest."

" It is not therefore too late," I exclaimed, " to
rescue Beda from a mode of existence which can-
not be profitable to her ?"

"What do you mean, Miss Percy?" asked
Zarah. " You have evidently some project in your
mind ?"

" When does your grandmother leave London ?"
I suddenly demanded.

" Not for some days to come," rejoined Zarah.
" She is unwell : she and Beda are living alone to-
gether at the old farm-house which Edwin St.
Clair temporarily hired as a most convenient place
for carrying out his designs in respect to your-
self."

" And do you think," I inquired, still with hasty
utterance, " that if it were told to Beda that there
was a lady who would take her into her service —
treat her kindly — give her the means of an edu-
cation which perhaps has been hitherto only too
much neglected "

"And you would do this. Miss Percy?" ex-
claimed Zarah, in mingled astonishment and admi-
ration.

"Yes — I would do this!" I emphatically re-
plied. " Oh, yes ! I should be rejoiced to snatch
that beautiful flower from the midst of the blight-
ing atmosphere which it now inhales 1"

" It can be done — doubtless it can be done !"
said Zarah, in a musing strain. " I can tell my
grandmother that I require Beda as an attendant
for myself — I will represent to her that so young
a creature is unfit to be near her when epilepsy
strikes her down in a word, Miss Percy, you
shall see Beda here to-morrow ; and if having
conversed with her you remain in the same mind,
and she herself is agreeable, I will undertake that
my grandmother shall consent to part from her."

" Be it as you say, Zarah. At this same hour
to-morrow I will be here. And now tell me, have
you succeeded in discovering any additional infor-
mation in respect to the foreign gentleman ?"

" Yes— some few particulars," answered Zarah.
" Yesterday afternoon I seized an opportunity,
when he bimself was out — his valet was likewise
absent — the old landlady was having her usual nap
after dinner, and the housemaid was engaged in
the bed-rooms, — I seized that opportunity, I say,
to glide into the parlour occupied by the foreign
gentleman. On the mantel-piece I dbcovered a
card-case — I took one of the cards — here it is — you
can see the name that is upon it."

Yes — it was the name of the Count of Carboni I

" But, as I learnt from the housemaid," con-
tinued Zarah, " this is not the name by which he
is known at these lodgings. It must however be
his real name, as it is on his card; and it was
most probably by accident that he left the card-
case itself l>'ing about. I have still some more
particulars to tell you. The housemaid informed
me that in a large portfolio in his bed-room —
amongst several prints and water-colour drawings,
all beautifully executed, there is one, of the latter
description, which the girl has looked upon with
feelings of alarm and horror. She told me how
she came to pay particular attention to it. She
one day entered the bed-room, not thinking that
the foreigner was there, — when she beheld hica
standing, as she thought, before the looking-glass :
but a second glance showed her, as she paused an
instant to apologize for her intrusion, that he was
contemplating a picture which he had placed
against that glass— in order, no doubt, that it
might stand there conveniently for his inspection.
He did not immediately perceive the girl; but
when she spoke, he abruptly turned round and
bent upon her a look so strange and haggard that
she was frightened. When next she was in that
bed.room — alone there — and with the certainty
that the gentleman was not in the house — she felt
an irresistible curiosity to look into the contents of
the portfolio, — a curiosity which she had not pre-
viously experienced, and which arose from the idea
that it was the subject of some picture which had
produced such an effect upon the foreign gentle-
man as he contemplated it."

" And what followed ?" I inquired.

" The maid unfastened the strings of the port-
folio," continued Zarah ; " and she looked over its
contents. As she said to me while telling me this
story, she did not see any particular harm in look-
ing at a few pictures : it was not the same as if
she were violating the sanctity of anything kept
under lock and key. Amongst the water-colour
drawings, was the one the subject of which in-
spired her with so much dismay and horror. She
described it to me minutely ; and I carefully trea-
sured up everything she said."

ELIBN PBECT; OH, THE MEHOIEa O? AN ACTEESS.

201

LADY LII.LA ESSENDINjE.

" And the subject of that picture ?" I asked,
with growing interest ia the tale to which I was
thus listening.

" The scene represents a splendidly furnished
apartment," proceeded Ztrah : " but in the midst
of it, where a chandelier ought to hang, a human
form is suspended by the neck. It is apparently
that of a handsome young man, with dark
whiskers and moustache. Upon her knees — gazing
up at the corpse, and in a position which vividly
expresses the most frightful anguish — is a young
and beautiful woman, richly dressed. leaning
with his back against the door, with arms folded
across his chest, there is a tall man : but the
shading of the picture is so contrived that the
countenance of this last-mentioned individual is
thrown into complete gloom by the brim of the hat
which ie is represented as wearing : so that his
countenance can only be dimly discerned. Such is
No. 26.— Ellkh Pesct.

the subject of the picture ; and the maid describes
it as one the execution of which is so ndinirable,
even in the horror of its mysteries, as to produce
an effect almost as potent as that which would bo
experienced if gazing upon the awful reality itself.
Should you like to see this picture. Miss Percy ?
The gentleman himself is out — the maid is good-
naturrdand obliging — she has taken a great liking
towards me "

"'No, no!" I answered, "That which is dono
cannot be recalled : but I must not sanction the
renewed violation of the sanctity of that gentle-
man's effects. Nevertheless, Zarah, I thank you
sincerely for the information which you have pro-
cured."

" You seem very pale— you are ill, my dear Mi88
Percy ?" exclaimed Zarah. " Let me give you a
glass of water ?"

"Yes— a glass of water," I replied; for I dii

303

ELIEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AW ACTEESS.

indeed feel faint,, as I bad something more than a
merely dim and obscure idea of the awful, the
frightful significaucy of that picture.

Zarab gave me the water, from imbibing which
I experienced refreshment and relief; and I said,
" Do not question me on the subjects whereof we
hare been conversing. A secret is involved which,
as you may well imagine, is not mine own. Per-
haps the day may come, as I have already informed
you, when I shall be enabled to give explana-
tions."

Zarah again assured me that she had no imper-
tinent curiosity ; and I took my departure, pro-
mising to return on the morrow, when I should
expect to find Beda there.

On issuing from the house, I resolved to repair
straight to Mivart's Hotel and inform the Marquis
and Marchioness of Campanella of all that I had
heard. I was proceeding along the street in search
of a cab, when a woman passed me ; and as she
looked at me significantly, I thought that her
coarse bloated features were not altogether un-
familiar to my recollection. I turned to fling
another glance at her : she had stopped and was
gazing after me ; and suddenly retracing her steps
towards me, she said, " Surely you must be the
young lady who called once or twice at my

house "

" Ah, I remember !" was the ejaculation which
now burst from my lips : for this was the woman
who kept the small chandler's shop in the neigh-
bourhood of Clare Market, where the unfortunate
Beatrice di Carboni had occupied a mean and
humble lodging.

"Have you found that young person since?"
inquired the woman.

"No! — and I am searching for her!" was my
quick response. " Have you seen her — have you

found any trace "

" I think I might discover where she is. Miss,"
answered the woman.

" Oh ! if you could," I exclaimed, enthusiastic
with a sudden joy, " you know not how grateful I
should be !— and most liberally should you be re-
warded ! Tell me what clue you have "

" It can't be all done in a moment, Miss," in-
terrupted the woman. "Just tell me what recom-
pense I may expect for my trouble ; and in the
course of a few hours you shall perhaps know
something."

Though disgusted with the woman's mercenary
character, I did not choose to betray the sentiment
which thus inspired me; and veiling that loathing,
I said, " Name your own terms, and they shall be
complied with."

"Well, Miss," continued the woman, in whose
eyes the greedy love of gold was expressed, " if
you wouldn't think a five-pcund note too much, I

don't mind taking the trouble "

" Too much ? — no !" I exclaimed, wondering
that she did not ask ten times the amount : for in
the excitement of my feelings I forgot that she
could have no idea of the importance that it was
to find Beatrice, and of how many hearts were in-
terested in her. " You shall have the money ;
and here is an earnest of my liberality," I added,
placing a couple of sovereigns in her hands. " But

tell me what clue you possess "

" Don't ask me any more questions now, Miss,"
interrupted the woman. "Leave mo to manage

the business after my own way. Where could I
see you again in a couple or three hours ?"

" Wherever you may choose to appoint," I re-
plied. " Name a spot in the neighbourhood where
you think that you will be enabled to conduct me
to that young lady."

The woman reflected for a few moments; and
then she said, " Would you mind. Miss, meeting
me in front of Whitechapel Church in about
two hours from this time ?"

" I will meet you there," I answered : but as a
sudden thought flashed to my brain, bidding me
be upon ray guard against even the remotest pos-
sible chance of treachery, I added, " You have no
objection that I should be accompanied by a friend
or two — a gentleman and a lady who are as anx-
ious as myself to find that poor fugitive creature ?"
"You may come with a dozen friends if you
like. Miss," answered the woman: "it isn't of
the slightest matter to me : there is a bargain be-
tween us — and I dare say that on my side I shall
be able to fulfil it."

" Hasten then quick," I cried, " and execute
whatever plan you have in view ! Rely upon my
punctuality in keeping the appointment which you
have given."

We now separated ; and I had no doubt as to
the sincerity of the woman, though I saw that in
her mercenary avarice she had resolved to derive
a good pecuniary advantage from the information
that she might be enabled to give. I speedily
found a cab, and repaired to Mivart's Hotel.
There I found the Marquis and Marchioness of
Campanella just returning from paying a visit to
Lady Cecilia Urban ; and I immediately informed
them that I had obtained tidings of Beatrice.
They were both rejoiced,— the Marchioness espe-
cially so ; and I commenced my explanations. I
told them that having occasion to visit a young
woman residing in a street near the London Fni-
versity, I had thereby been led to the discovery of
the abode of the Count of Carboni. I narrated
all that I had heard in respect to the fearful pic-
ture ; and I wound up with a description of my
interview with the landlady of the house in the
region of Clare Market.

" And, Oh I" I exclaimed, with a partial renewal
of the harrowed feelings I had experienced at
Zarah's lodgings ; " is there not a terribly signifi-
cant connexion between the subject of that awful
picture and the horrible mysterious words used by
Beatrice the last time I ever saw her, when she
spoke of the living and the dead being compelled
to hold companionship until the brain of the former
well nigh reeled into madness P"

"Yes— Oh, yes ! there is a horrible connexion ?"
said the Marchioness, with a x'lsible shudder.

"The Count may have been outraged by the
conduct of his wife, as no doubt he was," said the
Marquis of Campanella with a sombre lock ,- '* but
if indeed that picture has the significancy which
our coDJectures now impart to it, the vengeance
was too horrible — yes, too horrible even for a dis-
honoured husbaad to wreak ! Let us not however
give way entirely to surmises : but lot us await the
explanations which we shall doubtless receive it we
succeed in finding Beatrice. We will accompany
you, Miss TrafFord : —we will depart to the place
of appointment whenever you give the signal."
Tbo Marchioness thanked her husbaud with a

ELLEN PEECT; OE, XHH MEM0IE8 OP AW ACTEESS.

20S

fond look of grateful aflection for the interest bo
was now expressing in behalf of her unhappy
sister ; and bis lordship said with emphasis, " There
are errors and sins which may be expiated by an
intensity of suffering, and which may be atoned
for by a due amount of penitence. That Beatrice
has suffered horribly there can be no doubt ! As
for her penitence "

" And what, my lord," I solemnly interjected, —
'•' what if she be altogether innocent ?"

" Ah ! Miss Trafford," he exclaimed, " I fear that
it is your natural goodness of heart which makes
you hope for that which is barely possible. But
again I say let us not abandon ourselves to sur-
mises and speculations, when perhaps the hour is
approaching in which we shall receive the fullest
explanations."

At my suggestion a hired vehicle was engaged
instead of the Marquis's private carriage ; and we
proceeded to Whitechapel. We alighted at some
little distance from the church ; and thitherward
we repaired on foot. The Marquis and Mar-
chioness had never before been in that neighbour-
hood, where the business of an active retail com-
merce presents so many phases, and is so singularly
associated with the evidences of squalor, poverty,
dissipation, and vice. A glance thrown into the half-
open doors of the numerous public-houses, shows the
beholder that nowhere in London are the temples
erected to the Idol of Intemperance more fre-
quented ; while the same may be said of the pawn-
brokers' shops : and nowhere perhaps in the great
metropolis may such numbers of rough ill-looking
men or dirty slatternly females be seen ; nowhere
such crowds of miserable children playing in the
gutters and picking remnants of food from amidst
the garbage which has been thrown down there.

We were full a quarter of an hour too soon ;
and not choosing to remain stationary in front of
the church, we walked about in its immediate
neighbourhood. The clock struck three, — which
was the appointed time : but the woman made not
her appearance. Half an hour passed— and she
came not. The Marquis grew impatient — the
Marchioness and myself more and more uneasy ;
we all three began to apprehend that I had been
made the dupe of a cheat. Four o'clock struck :
the dusk was beginning to close in, — for the month
of February had not yet quite reached its termi-
nation ; and there had been a partial fog all the
afternoon. The gas was already lighted in several
shops ; and its broad jets, unprotected by lamps,
were flickering and flaming in front of the array of
butchers' stalls along the eastern side of White-
chapel. We were beginninjj to think that it was
useless to remain any longer, when all of a sudden
I beheld the woman approaching.

" Sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss," she at
once said, as she accosted me : " but I have hid
such trouble in finding out what I wanted to
learn. The fact is, i was down in this neighbour-
hood last evening, to pay a visit to a friend, — when
in a street hard by I saw that young person— Miss
Howard, I think you celled her — gliding rapidly
along ; and she was out of sight in a minute. But
I felt tolerably sure she was living somewhere in
this neighbourhood ; and I was determined to find
out."

" Well, well !" I ejaculated, feverish with im-
patience. " Have you succeeded ?"

" Yes— at last," replied the woman. " I knowed
it was of no use inquiring at the gin-shops — k>e-
cause she was too steady for that : but I thought
that may be she might be heard of at the 'tatur
and coal- sheds— or, saving your presence, at the
pawnbroker's ■"

"Enough!" I interrupted the garrulous and
unfeeling woman, " If you have found her abode,
guide us to it !"

"Yes, Miss — I have no objection— I can take
you there fast enough But there's a little mat-
ter, you know "

" Ah, true !" I exclaimed, now no longer able to
conceal my loathing for the wretch's mercenary
character; and I put five sovereigns into her
hand.

" Come along !" she said, clutching the gold
with avidity.

We followed her into a maze of streets — or
rather lanes, alleys, and courts, constituting a per-
fect labyrinth of obscurity, with all the evidences
of squalor and poverty nevertheless only too plainly
visible : while the atmosphere was offensive and
seemed veritably pestilential.

" Good heavens !" murmured the Marchioness
to me, " that my poor siater should have been
compelled to take refuge "

She stopped short : she could say no more : her
voice was lost in low convulsive sobbings.

" Sustain and console yourself, my lady," I said,
" with the thought that you will speedily bear
your sister to a better and more suitable home."

The woman, who was guiding us, presently
stopped at the door of a house in an alley so nar-
row that persons might shake hands across it
from the opposite windows. Two or three dirty,
half-naked children were playing upon the door-
step; and an ill-looking man was leaning against
the window-sill, smoking a pipe, and not offering
to make way for us.

"There!" said the woman who had been our
guide into the midst of this labyrinth ; " you will
find Miss Howard here — though it's of no use ask-
ing for her by that name, for the people of the
house don't know her by any at all."

Having thus spoken, she walked away ; and a
young sickly-looking female, with a squalid child
in her arms, came forth from a room on the
ground-floor when I knocked at the door, which
stood open. In answer to the queries that I put
the woman informed us that she had a lodger cor-
responding with the description which I gave ; and
thus the apprehensions which I had seriously en-
tertained in respect to the good faith of the burly
dame of the region of Clare Market, were set at
rest. Indeed, there could be no doubt that poor
Beatrice was found at last !

In pursuance of the directions given by the
sickly-looking woman, I conducted the Marquis
and Marchioness up a narrow, dark, broken stair-
case, to the very highest floor. There we knocked
at a door : it was opened ; and by the sickly light
of a miserable candle the countenance of Beatrice
was recognised. But good heavens ! how altered—
oh, how altered by privation, suffering, and dis-
tress of every kind ! An ejaculation of surprise
more than of joy burst from her lips on beholding
me : for she did not immediately perceive her
sister and the Marquis, who remained in the ob-
i scurity of the landing. But hot ensued a scene

204

E1I,EN PEBCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

for the description of which I can Bcarcely find
words at all competeQt. I had strained Beatrice
in my arms— when the Marchioness rushed for-
ward, crying, " Oh, my beloved sister ! do we meet
ftt lost ?"

Then, with a wild exclamation, Beatrice threw
herself upon the bosom of the Marchioness, and
wept passionately. Some minutes elapsed before
she understood that the Marquis himself was pre-
sent : and then, as if suddenly recalled to a full
sense of the position in whicli she stood towards
her sister and her brother-in-law, she exclaimed,
" I ain innocont — as there is a God above us, I
am innocent !"

" Oh ! heaven be thanked for that assurance !"
cried the Marchioness of Campanelln, in accents of
thrilling joy. "Doubly welcome to my arms art
thou, my beloved sister Beatrice !"

" My lord," I said, turning to the Marquis,
while the tears were raining down my cheeks —
and I spoke in a low, tremulous whisper, — " "Was
there not truth — truth the sincerest— in that ex.
clamation ?"

" Yes ?" responded the Marquis: " or else human
nature is capable of a falseness to an extent that I
will not believe. — Beatrice," he added, advancing
towards his sister-in-law, " look me in the face —
declare again that you are innocent towards your
husband — and I will believe you !"

"Husband of my sister — brother-in-law !" an-
swered Beatrice, her eyes lighting up with a sud-
den lustre, and a slight glow appearing upon the
cheeks that an instant before were so deathly p ile
and so haggard, " I swear to you that I am inno-
cent !"

"Then can I embrace you as a sister !" ex-
claimed the Marquis : and he folded Beatrice in
his arms; while the -Marchioness, seizing my hand
and pressing it with fervour, whispered in a voice
lull of emotion, " To you, my dearest friend, am I
indebted for all this happiness !"

CHAPTEE XXXVII.

BEATEICK DI CAEBONI.

The Marchioness alluded, as the reader has full
well comprehended, to the discovery of Beatrice
and to the bearing of the Marquis towards her :
for in every other sense there were only too many
causes for the most painful feelings. The altered
appearance of Beatrice— the evidences of distress
and suffering which her own person betrayed— the
miserable aspect of the poverty-stricken garret
lyliore the unfortunate creature was thus found —
together with the sense of all the unmerited per-
secutions, as they were necessarily looked upon
now that no doubt was entertained of her inno-
cence,—all these were painful and heartrending to
a degree.

But not long was Beatrice now suffered to re-
main in that wretched abode : for not even the
Marquis himself intimated the necessity of receiv-
ing the fullest explanations from her lips before
she was removed thence. A vehicle was sent for :
we all took our seats in it, and were speedily on
our way to Mivart's Hetel. During the journey
thither I gave Beatrice to understand that I had

not wilfully nor intentionally abandoned her on
the memorable day when I left her at the hou33 in
the neighbourhood of Clare Market ; and the
Marchioness of Campanella said, " No, my sweet
sister ! — you have no reason to blame Miss Traf-
ford ! She has proved herself your best friend ;
and to her we are indebted for the happiness which
we all now experience !'"

Beatrice pressed my hand to her lips: but she
could not give utterance to a word : her heart was
too full for speech from the lips.

We reached the hotel. Beatrice retired to her
sister's own chamber, where such changes of ap-
parel were effected as her garments rendered
necessary, — though even in the midst of her dire
poverty she had retained a neatness of appearance
which prevented her from becoming the object of
any unpleasant notice when entering the hotel
along with the Marquis and Marchioness and
myself. Still a more suitable raiment effected
considerable improvement in her appearance ; and
the serene happiness which was now shed over
her countenance veiled as it were much of its
careworn look.

I would have retired, thinking it more seemly
to leave Beatrice alone with the relatives to whom
she was thus restored : but they all three insisted
that I should remain to witness and share that
happiness towards which I had been so instru-
mental. I was enabled to pass the evening there,
as I had no duties to fulfil on the occasion at the
theatre. Dinner was served up : but, as the
reader may suppose, our hearts were all too full of
varied feelings to do justice to it. When the for-
mality of passing through the ceremony was over,
and the domestics had retired, Beatrice insisted
upon telling her tale,— though wo all urged her to
postpone it until the morrow, when her mind
should be more composed and her thoughts more
collected. But she declared it would do her good
to make these revelations which lay like a weight
upon her heart, and which would corroborate her
solemn averment of innocence. We therefore
prep'U'ed to listen ; and Beatrice commenced ia
the following manner: —

" I need not say that I loved Angelo Marano,
the humble and obscure subaltern ; and that I
yielded only to my mother's threats and entreaties
in accepting the hand of the Count of Carboni.
Oh ! could you wonder then that even without this
love of mine for one who was young and fasci-
nating, of frank and generous disposition — I
should have loathed the idea of being sacrificed to
that nobleman who was so much older than my-
self, and whose countenance had from the very
first impressed me with sinister misgivings in re-
spect to the nature of the individual himself?
Nevertheless, when my mother had succeeded in
winning my assent, I resolved to accept my destiny
with a becoming resignation, and to fulfil with pro-
priety all the duties of the Count of Carboni's
wife. You, my dear sister, can testify that I com-
plained but little — that I was even reserved and
distant, when on your arrival at Florence to be
present at the bridal, you questioned me on all
the circumstances in which I was placed. In the
enthusiasm of my youthful love for Angelo Ma-
rano I had plighted the usuaL vows of lovers:
but in one last interview I recalled them — I be-
sought him to release me from them. Oh, the

ELLKS PKKCX J OE, THE MEJIOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

205

aoguish of tliat interview ! — the miugled re-
proaches and entreaties, the upbraiding-s and the
prayers, the impassioned remonstrauces and pro-
testations, with which I was assailed on Angelo's
part, and against which I had to battle ! But
being the victim of what I conceived to be my
duty towards my mother, I performed that duty
resolutely ; and Angelo, giving me back my vows,
left me. He was broken-hearted : I was fortified
with the calmness— or at least the strength which
belongs only to despair itself. The marriage took
place: I accompanied the Count of Carboni to
the altar; and as I had sacrificed all my tenderest
and best feelings at the bidding of a mother, I
was now prepared to make a similar sacrifice in
the performance of my duty towards a husband.
I was glad therefore when he bore me to his
chateau in the southern part of Tuscany, at a
distance from those scenes where I had first met
Angelo, and where thcro might be a probability
that I should encounter him again."

Here Beatrice paused; and we all three con-
templated her with an illimitable compassion as
we thus heard from her own lips the immense
cruelty of that sacrifice which she had been com-
pelled to make of all the best and tenderest feel-
ings of Ler heart.

" If I had subsequently proved really guilty,"
continued Beatrice, " rest assured that I should
not now be culpable of so mean and base an act as
to attempt the extenuation of my own crime by
depreciating the disposition and character of my
husband. But as I am innocent, and as I wish
that the truth only should be told— yet, at the
same time, told in its fullest details— I need not
hesitate to speak frankly with respect to him to
whom my fate was linked. I found him selfish in
his disposition, jealous without a cause, and anxious
to keep me under his constant supervision— almost
a close prisoner within the walls of his chateau.
That he loved me to a certain extent, I do not
deny : but it was a love after his own fashion —
Belfish and egotistical. It was a mere pride and
vanity in the possession of a young wife whose
personal appearance and whose mental accomplish-
ments were not perhaps of a very inferior order.
Thus he lavished upon me costly gems and bade
me deck myself in the richest raiment : yet if any
one of his guests accosted me with a smile or a
compliment, a shade would lower upon Carboni's
features. When, a few months after my marriage,
you and I again met, dear sister, at Plorence, on
the occasion of our mother's death, you asked me
if I were happy; and I replied in the affirmative.
I did not choose to givo utterance to a single syl-
lable of complaint : for such complaining would
have implied regret for the step that I had taken
—and you might have fancied, my dear sister,
that I still longingly cherished the image of An-
gelo Marano. And besides, apart from those
considerations, I was too proud to confess even to
a sister that I experienced unhappincss as the re-
sult of that very step which I had self-sufficiently
proclaimed to be the resigned acceptation of my
destiny. Thus, though I spoke falsely to you, it
was a. venial offence : it was in the performance of
apajtof the duty which I conceived that I oncd
to my husband. Yes— I placed as it were flowers
upon my lips, when unseen thorns were piercing
my heart. But, Oh 1 aa the sunny waters of an

Indian river conceal the hideous monsters and
reptiles which lurk in its dark depths — so, too
often in tins world, does the sunshine of smiles
upon the countenance hiie the vulture-talons
which are tearing at the heart's core."

" Poor Beatrice !" murmured the Marchioness,
wiping the tears from her eyes : while I also was
deeply affected — and the Marquis of Campanella
dashed his hand athwart his brow.

"I now come," resumed Beatrice, after a long
pause, during which she had some difficulty to
conquer her emotions, — " I now come to that
memorable date in the month of September of last
year,— a date which is impressed upon my brain
as if stamped there with a searing iron, and writ,
ten upon my heart as if traced in lines of inef-
faceable blood ! Oh ! heaven protect all ye three
who now listen to me, from the experience of
even one tithe of the horrors which I have gono
through ! "We have heard of people's hair turn-
ing white in a single night — how young men and
women have in the course of a few hours assumed
all the hoariness of age, when the feelings have
been most tensely wrung and the heart has known
whole centuries of agony condensed into the space
of as many minutes. How my hair should have
retained its youthful hue after all I have suffered
— how my brain should have kept ils reason after
the frightful shocks it has sjstainad— indeed how
it is possible that I should be here alive to tell this
tale, when I have endured the tortures of cruci-
fixion itself — that crucifixion of the soul in com«
parison with which all physical agonies sink into
insignificance— how all this has happened, I say,
heaven itself can alone tell ! Yet it is so. Oh !
pardon this horrible preface. I see that I am har-
rowing your own feelings : but it is natural that
the reminiscences of the past should give a fright*
ful energy to my words !"

And there was an awful, a terrific, a galvanic
power in the language which Beatrice was using.
It seemed to strike upon the ear with the din of a
thousand storms, and to sweep through the brain
with the violence of countless hurricanes. It
came pouring over the very heart itself as if with
a rushing tide of burning lava ; and I, as well as
the other two listeners, sat gazing appalled and
horror-stricken at everything that we thus heard.

"It was in the month of September, as I have
said," continued Beatrice, now sj^caking in a
gentler tone, " and on one ot those delicious
Italian evenings when there is just a sufficiency
of the freshening breeze to subdue the sultriness
which a glorious day has left bahind — I was
walking with the Count of Cavboni through a
grove in the vicinage of the chateau. He was
conversing in his wonted egotistical style— of his
adventures in foreign lauds— of the prowess with
which he, single-handed, had oft defended himself
against banditti; and as usual likewise he was ad-
dressing me in my own English tongue— thougli,
as you are aware, my dear sister, I can speak the
Italian language with as much facility as the
other. Presently we beheld a domestic approach-
ing ; and he bore a letter which he said had just
been delivered by a courier, aud which he was de-
sired to place without delay in his lord's hand.
Tne Count read it, and iniorraed me that its con-
tents reported the favourable issue of a lawsuit, in
which, as you may recollect, he was engaged at

206

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTEES8.

the time of our murriage with a neighbouring
noblemun in respect to a disputed piece of land.
It appeared that the Count was anxious to send
back some reply by the courier to his lawyer ; and
bidding me await his return in the grove, he
hastened into the chateau. I had not been many
minutes alone, when there was a rustling amongst
the trees — and Angelo Marano stood before me."

Again Beatrice paused for a brief space ; and
then she continued in the following manner : —

" From the period when we had met in that last
agonising interview before my marriage, until the
instant when he thus stood before me in the grove,
I had never once seen him — had never even heard
of him. I was startled with amazement : but
quickly recovering my self-possession, I assumed
all the dignity of a wife who was performing her
duty towards her husband, and who would sooner
perish than be beguiled by any revival of her
former love for another. Angelo fell at my feet,
and implored me to listen to him, I answered
that he could have nothing to say to me unto
which I could with propriety lend an ear ; and I
commanded him to begone. He was about to re-
new his entreaties that I would hear him, when I
suddenly caught the sound of the opening and
shutting of the door in the garden-wall which se-
parated the plantation from the grounds in the
midst of which the chateau stood. Seized with a
mortal terror, I ejaculated 'My husband!' — and
the nest instant Angelo Marano rushed amidst the
trees. Though his disappearance was accomplished
in the twinkling of an eye, yet I knew full well
that if my husband had come hurriedly away from
that door of communication, he must have inevita-
bly caught a glimpse of Angelo at my feet. I
therefore felt full of a suspense which had in it all
the excruciations of a real guilt : for I knew that the
Count's jealous disposition would lead him to put
the very worst construction upon the incident de-
spite all I might urge to the contrary. Infinite
therefore was my relief when he accosted me with-
out any change of mood — at least so far as I could
actually discern: on the contrary, it even appeared
as if it were with a species of tenderness that he
gave me to understand there was a necessity for his
undertaking an immediate journey in consequence
of that lawsuit which he had gained. He informed
me that there was a postscript to the letter from
his man-of-business, which he had not at first read,-
and that it was on account thereof he must thus
absent himself for a day or two. I was in an in-
stant struck with all the inconvenience of this oc-
currence happening at the very moment when An-
gelo Marano had so imprudently appeared in the
neighbourhood ; and it was natural that my coun-
tenance should to a certain degree reflect the un-
easy thoughts that had arisen within me. But I
flattered myself that the Count had failed to ob-
serve any peculiarity in my looks : he seemed in a
hurry to depart : his carriage was soon in readi-
ness; and he set off. I remained in the chateau
after I had seen him depart : for though the dark
had not yet closed in, yet I would not so much as
venture into the garden, much less return to the
grove, with the knowledge that Angelo Marano
was in the neighbourhood, and with the chance of
agfiin encountering him."

iieatriee spoke with an irresistible sincerity of
tone and manner ; and it was easy to perceive

that the Marquis of Campanella put the most im-
plicit faith in all she was saying. I need scarcely
add that the Marchioness and I had believed in
her innocence even before the nobleman himself
was convinced when he had so solemnly adjured
her at her miserable lodging.

" I was seated alone in the drawing-room at the
chateau," continued Beatrice, " about a couple of
hours after my husband had taken his departure,
when one of the male domestics — Luigi by name —
brought me in a note. The address did not strike
me as being in a feigned hand : nor had I at the
instant a suspicion of whose writing it was. It did
however prove to be disguised : for when I opened
the billet the writing inside was different from that
of the address:— it was the natural fluent penman-
ship of its author : for the note came from Angelo
Marano ! I read but the first half-dozen words :
I then indignantly tore it up; and applying a
fragment to the flame of the lamp, burnt all the
pieces in the grate. I then perceived that Luigi
had remained standing near the door ; and I de-
manded of him why he lingered ? He stammered,
and at length intimated his expectation that there
might have been some response which I would
have wished him to convey. It instantaneously
struck me that Angelo had bribed the man to play
the part of a go-between ; and boiling with indig-
nation, I asked from whom he had received the
note? He replied from Signer Marano— adding
that if I chose to trust him, he should not be found
faithless in respect to any mission confided to him.
Enraged at the man's impertinence, I ordered him
from my presence, — vowing that I would report
his conduct to the Count the instant his lordship
should return ; and indeed this I intended to do —
for I saw that if I were to keep it secret I should
be tacitly admitting that I dared not reveal the
incident, and should thus be placing myself more
or less in Luigi's power. He left the room, evi-
dently as much affrighted at my menace as he had
been astonished at the treatment which the letter
received at my hands. As for myself, I was not
only indignant against Luigi— but I was painfully
hurt by Angelo's conduct. Indeed I was shocked
at its grossness and indelicacy ; and I even reflected
that he never could have entertained for me any
genuine unselfish love — or else he would not now
have sought so seriously to compromise me. I re-
tired to my own chamber ; and being full of pain-
ful thoughts, I dismissed my maids more speedily
than was my wont — indeed, before I had com-
menced disapparelling myself. T ; will presently
perceive that every little circuu.:.- .-ae told most
fatally against me on the occasion < 3 which I am
referring."

There was another brief pause; and then
Beatrice continued as follows : —

" I sat for some time musing upon everything
which had occurred — musing most painfully too —
but with a full determination of telling the Count all
on his return, and thus by my frankness disarming
his jealousy. My chamber, I should observe, was
on the ground floor— which, I may add for your
information. Miss Trafford, is frequently the case
in Continental houses, especially country-seats. I
was aroused from my reverie by hearing a slight
noise at the casement. I started up, and looked.
The draperies parted— and Angelo Marano made
his appearance. Nothing could exceed the mingled

terror and indignation which at once seized upon
me, — the former however paralysing my tongue,
which under the latter influence would have over-
whelued him with reproaches. He caught me in
his arms, expressing his fervid gratitude for the
interview which I had thus accorded him; so that
I gathered from the few hasty words he thus
uttered how fearful a mistake had arisen. In
short, his note had implored this interview ; for
concealed in the grove, he had beheld the Count's
departure in the travelling-carriage: — and if I
sent no reply by Luigi to Angelo's billet, it was to
be a sign that I would grant the request contained
in it. Tearing myself indignantly from his arms,
I at once gave him to understand that the reason
he had received no answer to his billet was because
I had not condescended to read it. He was con-
founded— and for an instant he evidently knew
not how to act. Again I bade him begone, or I
must summon the domestics — an alternative how-
ever, which, as you may easily suppose, I was
anxious enough to avoid. All of a sudden the
casement crashed in — a scream burst from my
lips— the Count, with features expressing the rage
of a demon, sprang into the room — and not more
quickly does the eye wink than was his sharp
atiletto plunged deep down into the heart of
Angelo."

"O Beatrice!" exclaimed the Marquis of Cam-
panel la, " I do now indeed comprehend how fear-
fully all circumstances combined in damning evi-
dence against you !"

" I fell senseless upon the floor," continued the
unfortunate Countess of Carboni ; " and when I
returned to consciousness, I was undressed— lying
in a bed in another chamber — with my two maids
in attendance. Their looks expressed not only
mournfulness, but likewise that unmistakable air
vhich denotes a belief in one's guilt, and which is
only subdued by the habit of respect which maids
display towards a superior. Conceive the anguish
of my thoughts when thus awakening from luicou-
Bciousness— an unconsciousness in which, as it ap-
peared, I had for hours been plunged ! I proclaimed
my innocence, and asked the girls if they believed
me guilty ? They remained silent; and one of them
wept. I sent this one, who seemed to show more
sympathy than the other, to entreat the Count to
grant me an immediate interview. His answer
was a stern refusal. I demanded writing-materials,
and penned a letter, containing the fullest details,
as well as referring his lordship to Luigi himself
for corroboration of the statement that I burnt
without reading Angelo Marano's billet. The
Count sent me back a verbal message, to the effect
that my tale was admirably devised, but that he
was not to become my dupe. AVhat was I then to
do ? For hours I remained in a state bordering
upon distraction. I perceived how fearfully all
circumstances had combined against me; and I
could not doubt that Luigi would either deny
having brought me a billet at all — or else would
boldly proclaim that I had read it, in order to re-
venge himself upon me for the menaces which I
bad uttered against him. In the meanwhile the
local magistrate had visited the chateau: the
Count had told his tale of how he had in a mo-
mentary transport of rage avenged his outraged
Louour : and the officer of the law was satisfied.
Bu»- tken came the fearful — the hideous — the hor-

rible proceedings which constituted the appalling
climax of all that I was destined to endure!"

Here again Beatrice stoppad ; and a strong con-
vulsing shudder passed through her entire frame.
She slowly raised her hand to her eyes, as if to
shut out some phantoms that appalled her view ;
and I had little difficulty in conjecturing what it
was that thus harrowed her feelings so painfully,
so terribly.

"It was late," she continued, "in the afternoon
of the day succeeding the tragedy of that dreadful
night, that the Count of Carboni made his appear-
ance in the room where I was detained in a species
of captivity under the eyes of my two maida.
There was a stern implacability— a settled fierce-
ness— a sinister savageness upon the features of
the Count ; and he ordered the two girls to retire.
The frank explanations contained in my letter
having been rejected, and my treatment having
been that of a guilty person, I did not condescend
to prayers, intercessions, or entreaties: but sud»
denly inspired with all the fortitude and the dig-
nity of conscious innocence, I took my stand upon
that pedestal. Never can I forget the look of
fierce sardonism which the Count bent upon me —
a look in which implacable hatred was blended
with a ferocious longing for revenge. I did not
choose to be the first to speak : I deemed it better-
to wait for whatsoever words he was about to ad-
dress unto me. He began by repeating the mes-
sage which he had sent me back by one of my
maids, to the effect that my tale was admirably
devised, but that unfortunately for me there were
evidences which gave it the lie. Then, as nearly
as I can recollect, he went on to address me in the
following strain: — 'When I left you in the grove
last evening, it was indeed only for the purpose of
penning the hasty note to be borne by the courier
to my lawyer : but on my return, at the very in-
stant I issued from the garden-door, I behel*
Angelo Marano at your feet. You gave an im-
patient gesture; and he at once disappeared
amongst the trees. I composed my countenance,
so that I might not betray my knowledge of that
incident which had just occurred ; for I thought
to myself, ' If Beatrice be innocent she will deal
candidly with me ; if she be guilty she will endea-
vour to deceive me !' And when I rejoined you,
you spoke not a syllable relative to that occurrence :
but your looks betrayed confusion and trouble.
Then all in an instant my mind was made up how
to act ; and I pretexted the necessity of a sudden
journey. But when at a little distance, I returned
aloue — I concealed myself amongst the trees of
the garden — I kept watch. I beheld your para-
mour steal in at the casement. Just heaven!
what feelings took possession of me when all the
worst was thus suddenly confirmed ! Ah— and
when I in a few moments burst into your cham-
ber, through that same casement — resolved to
avenge my outraged honour— did not a scream of
guilty terror thrill from your lips ? and did you
not fall fainting upon the floor ? Yes : your con-
duct was altogether that of a guilty woman ! But
there are even other evidences against you. Did
you not, immediately on retiring to your own
chamber, dismiss your handmaids for the night,
without receiving their wonted ministrations ? —
and was not this step taken that you might all the
more speedily receive your paramour to your

arms? And then, too, in respect to Luigi — how
transparent, how poor, how wretched is the expla-
nation which your letter conveyed to me upon that
point! I have questioned Luigi; and with an
unmistakable frankness he at once informed me
what had happened, A note was handed to him
by a stranger, to be delivered to you. Without
suspecting aught wrong — and ia the proper dis-
charge of his menial duty — he handed you that
note. You perused it ; and he, waiting for any
commands that you might have to give, was asto-
nished to behold how the flush of a wild joy
overspread your countenance. You said that there
was no reply ; and Luigi retired accordingly. It
is in vain, vile woman, that you have sought to
throw discredit upon a tried and faithful servant!
You are guilty ; and immense as your crime has
been, so shall my vengeance now prove propor-
tionately terrible !' — It was thus that the Count of
Carboni spoke."

"Ob, what a fearful combination of circumstan-
tial evidences!" murmured the Marchioness of
Campanella, as she lavished consolatory caresses
upon her sister.

"Suffer me to bring this hideous narrative to a
conclusion," resumed Beatrice : " it will not last
much longer. I have just given you the details
of that speech which the Count of Carboni ad-
dressed to me : but, as you may readily suppose, I
frequently interrupted it with ejaculations indig-
nantly repelling the various constructions he put
upon my conduct in every progressive step of that
fatal drama. Vain were my representations: I
might as well have endeavoured to bid the storm
of heaven itself be still, or with my breath to lull
the fury of the waves of a turbulent ocean, as to
seek to justify myself and assuage the feelings of
the Count. He believed me guilty ; and he pro-
ceeded to execute his terrible threat of vengeance.
JSe bade me follow him j and I obeyed mechani-
cally. He led me to an apartment on a higher
storey ; and as we entered, I observed a large
screen spread open before the door. That door
the Count locked, placing the key in his pocket.
He then drew back the screen; and, O God ! what
a spectacle burst upon my view ! For there —
suspended to the ceiling, in the place where an
enormous chandelier was wont to hang — appeared
the body of the unfortunate Angelo Marano !"

" By heaven !" exclaimed the Marquis of Cam-
panella, " it was atrocious— it was abominable !
Even though the Count believed you guilty,
Beatrice, his conduct was infamous and diaboli-
cal !"

The Marchioness of Campanella was so much
affected for some minutes that Beatrice was to this
extent delayed in the recital of her awful narra-
tive. At length however she proceeded in the
following strain : —

" I threw myself frantically on my knees at the
feet of the Count, beseeching him to release me
from the contemplation of that appalling spec-
tacle : but Oh ! the implacable words which he
addressed to me! — ' You shall remain here! you,
the living woman, with your dead paramour —
until all that beauty which on his part led you
astray, shall have turned into the loathsomeness
of corruption, and likewise until your own brain
shall have become maddened by the fearful spec-
tacle! Ab, you espoused an Italian; and you

shall now learn vhat an Italian vengeance is !'—
These were the words that he addressed to me;
and already half-maddened by the fearful ordeal
upon which I had entered, I threw myself upoa
my knees near the suspended corpse itself, dis*
tractedly proclaiming mine innocence, and im«
ploring God to work a miracle to prove it. In the
wildness and the frenzy of my mental anguish I
adjured the dead himself to speak and proclaim
me guiltless ! But heaven itself had abandoned
me : and no miracle was wrought for me. Oh !
conceive the horror of my position, — I, the living,
doomed to hold that awful companionship with tha
dead ! Was ever vengeance more fearful ? I flew
to the windows to dash them open — to shriek for
help, or to precipitate myself thence and end my
miseries in the blood of a distracted suicide. But
my tormentor was ever near me : his strong grasp
fixed itself upon me — I was dragged back from
the casements — he would not suffer me to find re-
lief in death. Ah ! if I were to particularize
every varied phaso of horror through which my
mind passed, my narrative would be extended to
hours ; and Oh ! I could not perform such a
task. Let me therefore hurry over these details
as speedily as possible. For four days and nights
was I kept a prisoner in that apartment, — the
Count never once leaving me. He, the living per-
secutor—and the dead cause of all my fearful
wrongs and hideous sufferings, — those two wero
my companions ! Twice every day a domestic— I
know not which of them all it was, for I never
once caught a glimpse of his countenance— placed
a tray of provisions just within the door, in front
of which the screen was again drawn. The Count
however ate but little ; and as for myself — during
those four mortal days and nights not a single
morsel of food passed my lips. Sometimes, for
hours together, I remained plunged into a stupor
wherein the sense of life itself seemed lost ; and
then for intervals I raved in wildest frenzy. For
there ever hung the corpse of Angelo Marano ; and
there ever stood the Count with folded arms, his
eyes incessantly riveted upon me, as if not a single
feeling I experienced should escape his notice. But
I will hurry over that terrifying ordeal to which I
was subjected ; and I will explain how I- escaped
therefrom. The dawn was glimmering in at the win^
dows, as the fourth night of my horrible captivity
there was drawing to a close, — when I observed
that the Count of Carboni was seated upon a sofa ia
a position that made me regard him more atten-
tively. Methought that he either slept profoundly,
or that he was dead. Trembling with suspense—
scarcely however venturing to indulge in the fever-
ish hope that the moment of escape was near at
hand— I crept towards him. His closed eyes and
his measured breathing appeared to indicate that
he indeed slept. Still I trembled lest it should
prove only a diabolic stratagem on his part — aa
artifice to cheat me into the belief that my eman-
cipation was come, so that at the instant when I
fancied that I stood upon the threshold of freedom,
his hand might be stretched forth to drag ma
back. Oh, with what fearful suspense did I con-
template the Count's features, as the beams of
morning played with increasing power upon theml
Was it possible that his iron nature had succumbed
to the sense of utter fatigue— while my constitu-
tion, though far more delicate, sustained mo yet ?

ELLLX PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

200

For four days and for four nights neither of us
had closed an eye in slumber, until now at length
my relentless persecutor — my implacable tor-
mentor, was exhausted first ! Yes— it was indeed
no artifice on his part — no delusion on mine : that
man slept ! Mv trembling fingers sought about
his person for the key of the door ; and I soon
clutched it. In a few moments that door opened
—I crossed the threshold — I closed and locked it
again. So great was the relief I experienced in
escaping from that appalling spectacle, and from
that atmosphere sickly and fetid with the presence
of the dead, that I almost fainted as I entered
upon the landing. But I was sustained by a pre-
ternatural fortitude. The hour was yet too early
for the domestics to be about ; and, unobserved, I
reached my own chamber. There I hastily put on
a bonnet and scarf ; and I took with me whatso-
ever ready money I possessed : but not a single
trticle of all the jewellery which my husband had
No. 27.— Elles Peect.

lavished upon me— no, not even so much as th«
wedding ring — that emblem of a detested alliance-
would I take ! I succeeded in issuing unperceived
from the chateau ; and when I breathed the fresh
air of freedom, it was only to find myself an out-
cast wanderer upon the face of the earth."

" Ob, my beloved sister !" exclaimed the Mar-
chioness of Campanella, " why came you not to
me ? — for if your tale had been told us, we should
have believed it — yes, my husband and myself
would have put faith in your words!"

"No, no ! you would not!" responded Beatrice :
" for was not the horrible conviction strong in my
mind that circumstantial evidences had fearfully
combined against me ? Did I not know that the
Count would tell his tal?, not merely as he himself
actually believed it in all its details, but in the
spirit of a vindictive exaggeration ? And then
too, I reflected that branded as I was, if I sought
your abode I should only be bringing disgrace and

210

ELLEN PERCY : OE, THE MKMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

dishonour tbither; — and it was enough for me to
suffer without carrying distress and affliction,
shame and scandal, into the home of a sister whom
I so dearly loved ! I came to England : I buried
myself in a seclusion which best suited my meagre
finances and my desolate spirit. Weeks and
months passed— penury stared me in the face — I
awoke to the necessity of doing something to earn
my bread. I thought of the stage ; for at the
Count's chateau we often had private theatricals —
the only recreation to which he had been at all
attached ; and I had received many flattering com-
pliments upon the manner in which I had ac-
quitted myself of the parts undertaken by me
Then it was that I applied to Miss Trafford, Oh !
from your lips, my dear friend, did I receive the
first syllables of sympathy which for a long, long
period had greeted my ears. You exerted your-
self on my bebalf ; and I received the promise of
an engagement. One night — it was after I had
parted from you at the private entrance of the
theatre — I suddenly encountered my husband.
Ejaculations burst from our lips ; and it instan-
taneously struck me that the measure of his vin-
dictiveness was not yet filled, and that his ran-
corous persecutions of his unhappy wife were now
to be renewed. I even trembled test he should by
some means have learnt my intention to appear
upon the stage, and that be meant to thwart and
to expose me in order that he might plunge me
still more deeply down into the vortex of hopeless
misery. He bade me follow hin) ; and I obeyed.
He led me into some secluded street— where he
suddenly stopped, and sternly demanded what I
wanted of him ? I could only reply by putting a
similar question, and asking what he wanted of
me ? He said that he bad renounced me for ever
— that I was no longer his wife — that he loathed,
detested, and abhorred me — and tnat if he had
expected to meet me i^ England, he should not
have come hither. I told him that I had no more
anxiety to claim him as a husband than he had to
acknowledge me as a wife — that I was passing
under a feigned name — that I was necessitated to
earn my bread by appearing upon the stage — and
that if he would consent to keep the seal of silence
upon his lips in reference to myself, I would ob-
serve a corresponding forbearance with regard to
him. He agreed ; and we separated. The re-
mainder of my narrative may be summed up in a
few words. On that memorable day when you re-
turned not to me. Miss Trafford, I thought that I
had lost my only friend : I naturally conceived that
from my sister's lips you had beard sufficient to
prejudice you against me — in short, that you had
abandoned me utterly. Oh ! I could not then ap-
pear upon the stage — I felt that my heart was
breaking — that my spirit was crushed ! I fled
from my humble lodging. It was my intention to
quit for ever this great metropolis where my last
hopes were destroyed, and where I dreaded lest at
any moment I might encounter a sister and a
brother-in-law who believed me guilty, and a friend
who had become prejudiced against me. In the
distracted state of my mind, I wandered amidst
the mazes of this modern Babylon, until utterly
lost in its labyrinthine intricacies ; and then, ex-
hausted, I sank down on the doorstep of that very
house where you this evening found me."

Beatrice ceased : her narrative was completed.

Need I state that we — the three horrified and
afilicted listeners— lavished upon her all possible
consolations ? or that she received from the Mar-
quis and Marchioness the assurance that thence,
forth she should find a home with them ? I left
it to her sister to inform Beatrice on a more
fitting occasion all that had come to my know-
ledge in respect to the Count of Carbotii, and how
he gloated vindictively over the pictorial represen-
tation of the appalling scene which she had been
describing to us. The Marquis intimated that
some measures should be adopted to render, if pos-
sible, the innocence of Beatrice apparent : but it
was agreed that nothing should be done until the
maturest deliberations had taken place upon the
subject. I bade a temporary farewell to ray un-
fortunate friend, her sister, and her brother-in«
law ; and I returned to Hunter Street, reflecting
with varied feelings upon all (hat had. this day
happened, and upon all that I had heard.

CHAPTEE XXXVIIL

On the following day, at about the hour of nooB,
I I repaired according to promise, to Zarah's lodg.
. ings: for I was not only desirous to see Beda, but
I had likewise been reflecting whether through
Zarah's instrumentality in some way or another,
the Count of Carboni might not be brought to the
understanding and recognition of his wife's inno-
cence ? Not that for an instant I deemed it pos-
sible that the Count and Beatrice could ever agaia
live together— or that the strong loathing which
the i^nfortunate lady naturally experienced towards
her fiend-like persecutor, could ever be dispelled.
But still it was important for her innocence to be
recognised, so that she might be enabled to look
the world in the face, and that there might not be
any inconvenience in her residing with the Mar-
quis and Marchioness of Campanella. But as for
any settled plan in reference to the way in which I
proposed to enlist Zarah's services — I had reallj
none. Indeed, the idea of adopting this course at
all was only as yet floating dimly and vaguely in
my mind.

I reached the house in which the gipsy resided :
and as I was ascending to her sitting-room, I met
upon the stairs a swarthy-faced Italian, dressed ia
a suit of black, with a white neck cravat, and
having the air of a valet out of livery— as indeed I
felt convinced that he was. Ho was short and
slender — about thirty years of age — tolerably good-
looking — yet with a certain expression of coun-
tenance which even at the very first glance I did
not much like. He however stood aside in a
most respecU"ul manner to allow me to pass ; and
in a few instants more I was with Zarah. I found
her alone, engaged with her books; and I was
somewhat disappointed at not beholding Beda
there.

" She will be here presently," said Zarah, read-
ing my thoughts ; " and I have so far paved the
way in furtherance of your generous design, that
my grandmother will consent to part with her, in
the belief that she is coming to attend upon me.
Thus, if after an interview with Beda you slill

ELLEN HERCT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS.

211

entertain the same idea, I think there will be no
difficulty in esecutin^j it."

I expressed my gratitude for the trouble that
Zarah nas taking in the matter; and 1 asked, as
if quite casually, " Who was that Italian, dressed
in black, and with a white neckcloth, whom I
have just encountered upon the stairs?"

" Oh !" exclaimed Zarah, laughing gaily : " that
is the Count of Carboni's valet — for I suppose yce
must call his lordship by that name, since we have
read it upon the card. And what do you think,
my dear Miss Percy ?" continued Zarab, again
laughing', " that impertinent valet has had the
audacity to fling tender looks at me, and to ad-
dress me when we met upon the stairs. He
speaks English tolerably well ; for he has been in
this country before— and he tells me that his
master is as well acquainted with England and
its language as if he were a native."

" Oh ! then, I perceive, Zarah," I said, with a
half-smile, " that you have not altogether rejected
the Italian valet's overtures to a little conversa-
tion ?"

"He spoke so civilly and courteously," an-
swered Zarah, " that I could not possibly cut him
short without appearing downright rude and un-
couth. He has a tolerable amount of conceit
about him ; for he took very good care to give me
to understand that he was not brought up to fill
a menial position — that he belongs Vo a good
family, which however had e-sperienced reverses —
and that in fact he is a gentleman by birth. Ah !
and he said more too : for he told me that during
the eight or ten years he has been in his master's
service, he has had opportunities of amassing a
very pretty little sum of money."

" He has indeed been communicative 1" I ob-
served.

" I am convinced," proceeded Zarah, again
laughing, "that the poor fellow is in love with
me — and that he said all these things to prove
that there is not a very great disparity between
our social positions : for of course you know, my
dear 3Iiss Percy, I pass as a sort of lady beneath
this roof."

" And I suppose, Zarah," I remarked, " that you
have not given him any encouragement ?"

"He has not as yet been pointed enough," re-
plied the gipsy, " to enable me to have the appear-
ance of taking his looks or his words in a serious
sense. But rest assured. Miss Percy, that I am
no silly coquette, fond of adulation, or capable of
trifling with any one's feelings : while as for love
— — But no matter ! That," added Zarah, em-
phatically, "is impossible !"

"And has this valet," I inquired, "spoken of
his master by the name of Carboni ?"

"No," responded Zarah : " and of course I have
not dropped the slightest hint to the efi'ect that
1 am acquainted with that secret. It is however
tolerably plain that Luigi is inclined to be very
communicative "

"Luigi?" I ejaculated. "Is that man's name
Luigi ?"

" I have his own word for it," answered Zarab.
"But why do you speak so excitedly ?"

I reflected for a few moments; and then I said,
" You have already seen, Zarah, that for certain
reasons I have desired all possible information in
respect to this Count of Caiboni. I think that

from everything you have just been telling me,
you may perhaps render some further services.
Indeed you may possibly assist in bringing about
a result which is greatly to be desired."

" You know, my dear Miss Percy," rejoined
Zarah, " that you may command my services to
any extent."

Again I reflected deeply. Should I tell Zarah
the whole tale in respect to Beatrice ? There
would be no breach of confidence when the revela-
lation was made for a good purpose : and indeed
Zarah could not very well assist me without a full
knowledge of all the circumstances. I therefore
resolved to take her into my confidence; and in as
succinct a manner as possible I related everything
which concerned the Count and Countess of Car-
boni. Zarah listened with the profoundest in-
terest,— with which wonderment and horror were
blended when I reached the concluding parti-
culars.

" And now," I added, " you are acquainted with
the meaning of that horrible picture. You under-
stand likewise how important it is that the inno-
cence of Beatrice should be made apparent; —
while there can be no doubt that Luigi is a villain,
who from vindictive motires, as well as to shield
himself from the imputation of being the hired
instrument of Angelo Marano's purpose, gave such
a colouring to his own share in the drama as
should confirm all the Count's suspicions against
the unfortunate Beatrice."

" In such a case," observed Zarah, " there is no
need to stand upon any false delicacy with regard
to Luigi ; and if I could only cajole him into a
full confession of the truth in respect to the part
he played in that fearful drama, 1 should be justi-
fied in adoptiog such means fur such an end."

"Most assuredly I" I answered. "Not for a
single instant should we stand upon punctilios
in reference to a villain of so diabolical a ; tamp as
this Luigi!"

Zarah and myself now deliberated upon a parti-
cular plan : we settled all the details ; and the
gipsy promised to lose no time in carrying them
out. Scarcely were our projects thus digested,
when the door opened ; and Beda made her ap-
pearance.

On the preceding day, be it remembered, she
was plainly but neatly dressed : now there was an
improvement visible in her toilet; and I at ouce
comprehended that Zarah had, with the kindest
consideration, taken care that the girl should ap-
pear before me in as respectable a style as pos-
sible. She entered the room with a light airy
step — with a partial smile upon the pouting ful-
ness of her red lips— and with beams of gaiety
and pleasure dancing in her superb dark eyes. She
looked even more ravishing and captivating than
on the previous day ; and, if possible, I felt even
more deeply interested in her.

" I will leave you alone together," said Zarah,
rising from her seat : " for it is time I should
think of putting off this morning wrapper, and
assuming a more suitable toilet for the hour of
the day."

'■' Beda," I said, when Zarah had quitted the
room, " sit down. I wish to converse with you."

The girl unhesitatingly took a chair— with no
diffidence nor bashfulness — nor yet with boldness
nor hardihood. She had a certain freedom and

independence of spirit, chnrncteristic of the race
to wliieli she belonged; but there wns also a cer-
tain uaturnl gracefulness, which might almost bo
termed a wild unstudied elegance, in her move-
ments imd her actions. She sat down, and fixed
her largo dark eyes upon me, — thus surveying me
with a species of wonderment and interest, as if
she thought me a very superior being, and was
alike proud and pleased to be brought in contact
with me.

"Do you know, Beda," I asked, in the kindest
tone, " why you came hither to see me to-day ?"

" Zarah told me," responded Beda, whoso voice
was singularly musical — with almost a golden
richness of tone, — " that you Lad spoken very
generously of me, and that you wished to do
something for mo. She bado me mind and not
tell her grandmother all this — nor indeed to men-
tion your name to the old woman on any account.
I had previously promised to servo you to the best
of my power, in case I should hear of any in-
trigues or plots hatching against you ; and I in-
tended to keep that promise faithfully."

" You are a good girl, Beda," I answered ;
" and I will at once state that I have conceived a
great interest in your welfare."

" I was very glad," replied Beda, " when Zarah
told mo that I was to meet you here to-day : for
she bad spoken in such high terms of you, that I
already loved you. And she said too that you are
80 very, very clever — that you are the greatest
actress in this country — and that you perform at
a place where there aro thousands of people
gathered to behold you. So I was very much
pleased to think that I should see you to-day :
for I knew who you were yesterday — and I should
Lave been delighted if you Lad spoken to me a
single word,"

All this was said with so much artless in-
genuousness, so much natural candour and un-
studied frankness, that it was impossible for a
single instant to doubt Beda's sincerity. I Lad
not checked her while she was speaking in so
complimentary a strain in respect to myself; be-
cause I wished to hear all that she had to say, and
to suffer her to say it in her own natural way.

" Should you like to live with me altogether,
Bedii P" I asked.

" Oh, that I should !" she joyously exclaimed :
and brighter grew the beams of pleasure that were
dancing in the depths of her large lustrous
eyes.

" I do not mean, you know," I said, " that you
are to become my companion— but to be my maid
i— to attend upon me "

"1 know very well," she interjected, "that I
am not fit to be the equal of a beautiful and
well dressed lady such as you are : but I should
like to live with you, ou any terms you think
fit."

"Eemember, Beda," I continued, "if you como
to live with me, it will bo in London — you will see
little of the beautiful open country — you will
seldom ramble into the fields— and I think I must
add that if you meet any of your old acquaint-
ances, you must not speak to them — with the ex-
ception of Zarah, whom you will often see."

" I do not care for the fields nor the open
country," responded Beda, " if I can only live
with you. As for my acquaintances, I know

nobody but Zarah and her grandmother, and an
old woman that I have been living with near

Tottenham. ]>ut she used .to boat me "

" Boat you?" 1 exclaimed, indignantly. " But
perhaps," I added, in a milder tone, " you were
sometimes in fault?"

"I don't know," replied Beda : " but if I hap-
pened to broiik some of her wretched old crockery,
she used to strike me. It did not however much
matter ; for I always gave her a blow in return.
Still I did not like that sort of life "

"Well thou, Beda," I interrupted her, "you
Lave no acquaintances but those whom you Lave
named; and you aro not much known amongst
the gipsy race ?"

" I knew a great many," she replied, " when I
lived with my father and mother, and we travelled
about in a caravan: but they died five or six years
ago — and then when I went to live with the old
woman near Tottenham I lost sight of everybody I
used to know ; and that's why I told you 1 have
no acquaintances now."

" What was your father, Beda ?" I asked.

" A gipsy, Miss," she ingenuously responded.
" But ho used to pride himself on never Laving
taken anything that did not belong to him ; and
my mother never told fortunes. I havo heard that
they had some little means which died with them.
Let me see ? — what was it called ? Oh, I recol-
lect!— an annuity — allowed them by some very
rich people, for Laving found their child, which
some other gipsies, who were very wicked, had
stolen. Do you understand me, Miss ?"

" Perfectly, Beda," I answered. " Do you hap-
pen to know the name of the persons who allowed
your parents that money ?"

" No— I never heard their name," responded
Beda. " My parents were very kind to me :" and
large tears gathered in her superb lustrous eyes.

" And I will bo very kind to you, my poor
Beda," I said, caressing her clear olive cheek.
" How old are you ?"

" I shall be fifteen in a few weeks," replied
B»da. " Do you not think I am very short for
my age ?"

"No— you are the proper height. And therefore
it is arranged, Beda," I continued, "that you shall
como to me. You will remain with Zarah to-day ;
and I shall come and fetch you away to-morrow.
Zarah will buy you some nice clotlies ; and there-
fore you will have everything in readiness by the
time I arrive. You will bo with other servants at
the Louse where I live : but you must never talk
to them of Zarah, nor of her grandmother, nor of
the old woman near Tottenham ; and you must
contrive to say as littlo as possible in respect to
your parents, the caravan, the annuity, the gipsies
who stole the child, and everything that regards
your former mode of lile."

I gave Beda these injunctions in order to save
her from Iho chance of being joked or taunted
concerning her antecedents by those who would
be her fellow-servants at the Louse in Hunter
Street. She promised to remember everything I
told her ; and seemed overjoyed at the prospect
of coming to live with me. Zarah now returned
to the room ; and before I lelt, I took the oppor-
tunity of having a little private conversation with
her. I placed in her hand a sum of money, to bo
expended in equipping 13cda with a sufficient and

ELXEN PBECT; OE, THE SEEMOIES 01? AN ACTEESS.

213

suitable wardrobe; so that her first appearance at
the Normans' house might be as respectable aa
possible ; and I bogged Zarah to superintend all
these little arrangementa.

On taking my departure, I proceeded to Mi-
vart's Hotel— where I found the Marchioness and
Beatrice : but the Marquis was absent, making
final arrangements for a house which he had taken
for some months. Beatrice looked much better
than I cculd have dared to hope to find her : for
not only did she experience those comforts to
which she had been accustomed, but her heart was
considerably lightened by the circumstance that
her innocence was believed by those whoso
good opinion she so much valued. I took an
opportunity of speaking aside to the Marchioness
ir. the following manner : —

" I have some little project in hand, which may
perhaps tend to convince the Count of Carboni of
Lis injured wife's innocence. Do not ask me now
what it is ; and say nothing to Beatrice on the sub-
ject— for we must not excite a hope until we are
confident of being enabled to fulfil it. Perhaps your
ladyship will also be kind enough to request the
Marquis to suspend any operations on hia own
side iu respect to the Count of Carboni, until the
result of my own proceedings be known."

The Marchioness promised to fulfil all my in-
structions, — declaring that she had the fullest
faith in my discretion and sagacity.

On the following day the Marquis, the Mar-
chioness, and Beatrice removed from Mivart's
Hotel to the house hired for their accommodation;
and I fetched away Beda from Zarah's lodgings.
I had previously told the Normans that accident
had thrown me in the way of a young creature in
whom I had become much interested, and that I
was desirous to take her into my own special ser-
vice. I entered into no further particulars ; and
the Normans asked me for none. When Boda
was introduced to the house, they as well as their
domestics were all astonished and delighted at her
appearance : they were immediately interested in
her; and I had now no fear that the servants
would treat her unkindly.

But I will here take leave of Beda for the pre-
sent, and return to that project which I had
settled with Zarah, and which had so important
an aim in view. A fortnight passed from the day
on which that project was first initiated ; and the
period had now arrived when Zarah felt convinced
it might be carried into eS'ect. Accordingly, I
one morning visited her at an earlier hour than
usual ; and as this appointment wes prearranged,
she was iu readiness to give me immediate and
stealthy admission into the house. Zarah's sit-
ting-room was separated from her bed-chamber by
folding-doors ; so that in either apartment any one
could overhear what was taking place in the
other.

" Do you think the moment is come ?" I asked,
as I followed her into the parlour.

" I am convinced of it," she replied, with an air
of confidence. " You shall see. Luigi is out now :
he will return in a quarter of an hour — and I
gave him permission to come up to my apartment
and sit with me a little while in discourse. I can
assure you. Miss Percy, that never was infatuation
80 great!— and you will soon be satistied of the
immensity of the power which I wield over him.

He has told me, amongst other things, that his
master — whom he voluntarily named as the Count
of Carboni — had sustained a great and terrific
calamity, which had disgusted him with the world
and driven him to misanthropic habits. The
Count, it appears, feels most acutely what he con-
ceives to be his dishonour ; and hence the conceal-
ment of his identity beneath a feigned name —
hence also the bitterness of that vindictive spirit
which makes him still gloat over the fearful re-
venge which he wreaked."

"Did Luigi allude to his revenge in more spe-
cific terms?" 1 inquired.

" No," responded Zarah : " he spoke darkly of

a revenge which had been wreaked But he is

coming ! — the front door has just opened ! Hide
yourself, Miss Percy !"

I lost not a moment in retreating into the
bed-chamber, — the folding-doors of which I care-
fully closed; and then placing my ear against
them, I awaited the issue of the scene that waa
about to take place. •

In a few minutes Luigi entered the sitting,
room, and I heard Zarah greet him with a mingled
courtesy and ceremony. She desired him to ba
seated ; and I soon discovered that he spoke tho
English language with considerable fluency.

" This is the moment for which I have been
looking forward with so much hope and anxiety]"
he began, speaking with accents of tender enthu-
siasm.

" Stop ! be not too fast !" interrupted Zarah.
" It is true — and I hesitate not to confess it — that
your attentions have not been lost upon me :
but we have known each other for so short a
time "

" Yes ! — but in a short time," cried Luigi,
"persons may often come to know each other as
well as after the longest acquaintance. Besides,
have I not dealt frankly with you? — have I not
told you exactly how I am at present situated in a
pecuniary point of view — what my prospects
are " *

"True !" ejaculated Zarah: "and I believe you.
Yes — you have been sincere and candid ! Yet
there are some things concerning which I would
ask you ; and before I can give you any decisive
response "

" Oh ! you are so handsome," exclaimed the en-
raptured Italian: "you know not how I love
you!"

" And will you give me the proof that I shall
demand ?" asked Zarah, assuming a tender tone
of voice.

"Yes ! — any proof," ejaculated Luigi. " Y'ou
have but to speak — and Oh ! I shall be delighted
to give you some proof of that love with which
you have inspired me !"

"Be not too sure," said Zarah emphatically.
" There are times when the heart may be put to
too strong a test "

"With me it is impossible !" exclaimed Luigi.
" But what means this mysterious language ?
There is a strange lustre shining in your eyes;
and yet it is a superb light ! And, Oh ! those
eyes of yours are so grand in their radiance— so
magnificent in their splendour — that to bask in
their sunshine would be bliss ineffable !"

" If you will but do something to deserve my
love," said Zarah, " you shall be at liberty to ad-

214.

BXrBir PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3.

dress me in all these beautiful compliments; aad
I vpill listen to them ! Yes ; I will display all the
tenderness that you can desire; and I will say to
you, 'Luigi, I am thine ! Thou shalt lead me to
the altar !' "

" Oh, thanks ! a thousand thanks !" exclaimed
the enraptured Italian. " What proof do you de-
mand of me ? Bid me attempt any difficult task
—and I will essay it ! Bid me reveal every secret
of this heart of mine — and I will confess to you
as if to a sainted priest !"

" Listen to me, Luigi !" said Zarah. " For
certain reasons— which I will explain to you at
another time — I have vowed that to no man
shall my love be ever given— on no man shall my
band ever be conferred — in whose soul I Lave
reason to believe that there are secrets treasured
up. This belief I entertain of you. Do not in-
terrupt me— but continue to listen with attention !
Yes, Luigi— there are secrets in your soul — and I
have partially divined them !"

"You?" ejaculated the Italian, "with startled
accents.

" Yes — I !" she responded. " Prom certain
words which have dropped from your lips at dif.
ferent times — words full of significancy, yet ao
mysterious "

" Yes, yes— it may be so !" said Luigi, in musing
accents. " When I am excited, I speak un-
guardedly. And Oh ! to be under the influence of
the spells of your beauty — to be infatuated as I
am infatuated with your loveliness "

"Suffer me to proceed," interrupted Zarah.
" Not only from words which you yourself have let
drop, but likewise from certain mutterings which
I accidentally overheard on the part of your
master, the Count of Carboni "

"Well, well," said Luigi, tremulous with, sus-
pense. "And those words "

" Point to the reading of a fearful secret," con-
tinued Zarah. "And what is more But now

I am giving yoit, a proof of confidence 1 have

seen that fearful picture in the Count's cham-
ber I"

" Ah ! I remember," interjected Luigi, " that
when you and I have been conversing together, I
have dropped allusions to the deadly vengeance
which the Count wreaked in a certain quarter.
But I did not think that I spoke so plainly "

"Luigi I" exclaimed Zarah, assuming an impas-
sioned tone; "1 care not what part you may
have played in that tremendous drama : I care not
to what an extent you may have participated in its
horrors ! No— for all this I care not ! But
what I do care for, is that you should keep
a single secret from me ! Frankly do I
declare that if you have been guilty of crimes,
the fact would make no difference in what I might
feel towards you: but I must know tbem ! No-
thing must be hidden from me ! I would not wed
a man over whose countenance I knew that there
was a mask : I would sooner see that countenance
revealed, even though it were one impressed with
the sinister traces of crime !"

" Inscrutable being that you are !" murmured
the infatuated Luigi; "your words fill me with a
strange bewilderment. Yet, Oh ! the tones of
your voice — your looks "

" Deal frankly with me, Luigi, and I am
thine !" — and Zarah admirably suited her accents

to tbo part which she «a8 performing. " Confess,
Luigi, that to obtain this hold which you possess
over your master, you did something — you were
guilty of some deep duplicity — perhaps you your-
self, for your own reasons, aided to bring about
the catastrophe. If so — and if it were for revenge,
I could admire you !"

"Ah, this promise which you now hold out ?"
exclaimed the Italian, in rapturous triumph.
"Yes, yes! — it was through revenge! At the
same time that the Count wreaked Ms revenge, I
wreaked mine. And now admire me, my well-
beloved ! — admire me !"

" Oh, I admire you, Luigi !" cried Zarah, in a
tone which for its enthusiasm seemed to emulate
his own. " Proceed! — tell me all this — secure my
admiration ; for I know that one who can avenge
terribly, can love devotedly. All passions should
be in extremes "

"And mine are!" ejaculated Luigi. "It was
my master's wife — the Countess of Carboni
she spurned my services when I would have ren-
dered them — she menaced me with betrayal to my
lord, and with consequent dismissal : she scorned
the humble Luigi as an agent and assistant — and I
was avenged — Ob, I was terribly avenged !"

" And you were right !" exclaimed Zarah.
"The more you tell me, the more I admire you.
Yes — I love a fervid disposition such as yours !
But proceed, Luigi! — tell me how you accom*
plished your vengeance ?"

" The Countess of Carboni was beloved by an-
other — his name was Angelo Marano. He sought
me one evening — he told me that he had met the
Countess in the neighbouring grove — but that she
had indignantly bidden him depart. He was ut-
terly unprepared for such a reception : his spirit
was chafed — while the spectacle of her enchanting
beauty had fired his passions. He swore to possess
her ! He put a heavy bribe into my hand, and
demanded my co-operation. In the neighbouring
cottage of a labourer he penned a billet, — of whictx
I became the bearer to the Countess. Methought,
from all that he told me of their past love, that
she would relent upon perusing it, and that she
would yield to the prayer which it contained. But
she indignantly burnt it without scanning its con<
tents. Then was it that she overwhelmed me with
reproaches, and vowed on my lord's return that
she would explain my whole conduct. What was
I to do?"

"You had two courses to adopt," exclaimed
Zarah boldly : " you had to ensure your own
safety in respect to your master, and to punish
the haughty lady who would have involved you ia
ruin."

" Oh, how well you comprehend my disposi*
tion!" exclaimed Luigi. "Yes — those were the
paths which I had to take. And first of all, I
saw a means by which I might get that haughty
lady into my power : for the note which I had
borne distinctly specified that if she sent back no
answer, her silence was meant to imply that she
would accord the interview which was therein be-
sought. So I returned to Angelo Marano ; and
I told him that there was no answer. 1 even
threw out encouraging words, and represented
that my noble mistress had smiled and blushed
with pleasure over the contents of his billet."

" You played your part admirably !" exclaimed

eiIlew pekct; oe, the mesioies oe an acteess.

215

Zarali ; " and I repeat, Luigi, I admire a disposi-
tion such as your's. Yes, yes — I comprehend !
You had now that haughty lady in your power ;
for doubtless the appointment was kept?"

"Yes," continued the Italian; "and I had hid-
den myself in the garden with the intention of
bursting into the chamber and surprising them to-
gether. Eut the adventure progressed otherwise
than I had anticipated : the Count himself was
there, unsuspected by me ;— and all of a sudden
the casement was burst in— the frantic nobleman
had forestalled me in what I myself bad intended
to do. In an instant it was over : Angelo Marano
was a bleeding corpse ! But you will perceive
that this was a tragedy which I myself little ex-
pected "

" And yet you could not blame yourself," ex-
claimed Zarab. " O Luigi ! every instant you are
becoming more worthy of my love : for there is
something sublime and noble in an Italian re-
venge !"

"Ah ! and something fearfully sublime and aw-
fully noble in this one," responded Luigi. " The
Countess addressed to her husband a letter of ex-
planations, especially with regard to the share that

I myself had taken in the transaction "

" Oh ! then was your opportunity !" cried Za-
rah: "and you told your tale to suit your own
purposes, and to confirm the punishment of that

haughty woman did you not, Luigi ?"

" Yes— it was thus I told my tale," responded
the Italian. " Then followed the scene that you
have beheld in that picture which the Count so
often gloats over. And I myself painted that
picture : for as I have told you before, I was
well educated in my youth, and I possess many
accomplishments. And for four days and for four
nights did that scene endure ; and I, the only
confidant of my noble master in the wreaking of
his terrific vengeance, conveyed to the apartment
a tray of food at stated intervals; and from be-
hind the screen which was drawn in front of the
door, I obtained a glimpse on each occasion of
what was passing within. Now you know every.
thing. There is not another secret which my
heart cherishes !"

" Admirable Luigi !" exclaimed Zarah ; " you
have done all that I demanded of you. Oh, that
was indeed an Italian vengeance!— a vengeance
sublime and terrible— and all the more sublime
and all the more terrible because the Countess

was innocent was she not ?"

"Yes — innocent," replied Luigi : "or else, with-
out that innocence, where would have been the
■vengeance? If guilty, it would have dwindled
down into a merely righteous punishment. But
why do you gaze thus at me ?" — and the Italian
suddenly put the question in accents of a vague
terror.

" Why do I thus gaze at you ?" exclaimed
Zarah : and I heard her start up from her seat.
" Ob, that my eyes could shoot forth lightnings
to strike you down, monster of iniquity that you
are ! But the truth has been elicited from your

lips and here is the witness !" added Zarah, as

she tore open the folding-doors.

The dismayed astonishment, the rage and the
terror, which, all combining, seized upon the mise-
rable man, were not however greater than the joy
which I experienced at having thus obtained ihe

means of proving the complete innocence of
Beatrice.

" Ah, there shall be another revenge !" suddenly
exclaimed the Italian : and like a tiger he bounded
towards Zarah.

But she was prepared for this ; and instan-
taneously springing back, she drew a dagger from
her bodice. Her fine form was drawn up to its
full height; and with the haughtiest scorn and
contempt for her adversary, she said, " Dare ad-
vance another step — and this weapon drinks your
heart's blood !"

It would be impossible to describe the look of
fiendish rage, mingled with the scowl of utter dis-
comfiture, which Luigi flung upon Zarah. He
then rushed to the door, and disappeared from cur
view. Almost immediately afterwards we heard
the front door of the house closing violently : and
rushing to the window, we beheld the Italian
speeding along the street. Perhaps ignorant of
the British laws, he was apprehensive that he
might have committed himself to within the scopo
of their jurisdiction by the avowals he had made.

" Zarab," 1 exclaimed, seizing her hand and
pressing it with fervour, "you performed your
part admirably ! At first L trembled lest you
should utterly fail in dragging forth the secrets of
that villain's black heart : but when I found him
becoming as fervid as he was credulous in his in-
fatuation, my opinion changed and I saw that suc-
cess was before you. And you Jiave succeeded! —
and by a trifling as well as a temporary sacrifice
of feeling on your part, you have done that
which will infuse happiness into several souls,
and render justice to one who has been well nigh
crushed beneath the stigma of unmerited shame
and the weight of bitterest persecutions. It
now remains for me to lead the next scene in this
drama of real life. Let us inquire if the Count
of Carboni be within ?"

" He is not," responded Zarah : " for if he
were, we should have heard his footsteps either

below or above Ah ! there is his knock at the

front door !"

I issued from the room ; and descending the
stairs, met the Count of Carboni jast as he was
entering the house. The maid- servant who had
opened the door, retreated rapidly along the pas-
sage; and without addressing the Count by any
name, I said to him, " Pardon the liberty I am,
taking— but I beg a few minutes' interview with
you."

" I have the pleasure of knowing you by sight.
Miss Trafi'ord," he replied. "I saw you once at
the theatre : you appeared on the occasion in the
character of Portia."

I was not at all astonished that he recognised
me : for I remembered how attentively he watched
me on that particular evening. But scarcely had
he finished speaking, when a dark shade came
with a sombre scowling expression over his fea-
tures : and looking at me with his black piercing
eyes, ho said, "What business can you have with

me ? For if it relate to " He suddenly

stopped short; and I, fearful lest he should hasten
away and refuse me the interview which I craved,
quickly responded, " It is concerning your domes-
tic Lu'.gi that I wish to speak to you."

'•'Ah, that is difl'ereut !" he i.aid. Lis counte-
nance suddenly losing that depth of sombre

216

ElLElf PEECT; OH, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

gloum, and recovering its settled sinister expres-
sion. " Have the kindness to walk in here. Miss
Trafford :" — and he threw open the door of the
ground floor parlour.

" My lord," I began, when we were thus alone
together — and be started at being so addressed, —

"you see that I know who you are^ "

"Yes — and I suppose that Luigi has been tell-
ing you this secret," interjected the Count, " as
well as perhaps some others :" — and again were
his keen eyes fixed penetratingly upon me,

"Prepare yourself to learn, my lord," I an-
swered, " that the domestic in whom you have evi-
dently reposed so much confidence, is a villain of
the blackest stamp !"

" Ah ! is it so ?" muttered the Count, a shade
again more darkly lowering over his features. "But
tell me, Miss TraiFord— what has ho been saying
to you ? and how is it that a young lady of your
respectability could have condescended to enter
into familiar discourse with a valet f '

" Spare your sneers, my lord," I said, with a
calm dignity. "Yet I would not wound your
feelings more deeply than they must presently be
wounded by all that you are to hear from my
lips !"

"M^ feelings indeed!" ejaculated the Count of
Carboni, almost in a contemptuous tone ; " as if I
had any feelings left to be wounded !— as if they
had not been all blunted, crushed, extinguished

Now, Miss Trafford," he suddenly interrupted

himself, " there is no need for you to enter upon a
long preface before you reveal whatever you may
have to impart. There is something in your look
which does indeed tell me that you know more of
me and my affairs than I could have wished."

"Yes, my lord— I know everything!" was my
answer : and then with the most solemn look and
impressive accents, I added, "Yes— and I even
know more than you do, my lord : for while you
believe your unfortunate wife to be guilty, I have
obtained the certainty of her innocence !"

The thunder- cloud casts not a more gloomy nor
ominous shade upon the earth, than the sombre
scowl which now appeared upon the countenance
of the Italian nobleman.

"No, it is impossible!" he said, in a deep
hoarse voice. " It is as impossible, Miss Trafford,
as that the sun at noonday can be black— or that
I by a mere wish could transport myself hence a
thousand leagues in a moment ! It is impos-
sible !" he added vehemently.

" And 1 declare, my lord, before Grod, that it is
true !" I emphatically exclaimed.

The Count seemed staggered. Again were his
penetrating eyes fixed upon me : but now there
was a strange uncertain light vibrating in them —
while his lips quivered, and there were certain
twitchings and workings of his features which
showed how strong was the agitation of feelings
within his breast.

"You cannot be ignorant, my lord," I con-
tinued, " that I am acquainted with your wife.
Y'ou know that a short time back she was to ap-
pear at the same theatre where I myself have an
engagement; and I may add that it was through

my introduction "

" But is this possible ?" gasped forth the Count :
and be trembled from head to foot : " can it be
posaible that Beatrice is innocent ?"

" She is innocent, my lord !" I exclaimed ; "and
Luigi has confessed everything ! It was he who
by the suppression of truth, where it would havo
served your injured wife — he who by misrepresen-
tation and exaggeration on those points which
with a diabolic artifice he could so turn as to tell
against her — it was he, I say, who riveted and
confirmed all the suspicions which were excited in
your mind ! My lord," I continued, "it is impos-
sible to blame you under all circumstances for en-
tertaining those suspicions : but further than that
my sympathy goes not with you. The vengeance
you wreaked was frightful and appalling !"

"Miss Trafford," said the Count of Carboni, in
a voice so deep and hollow that it sounded as if it
came up from the profundities of a sepulchre, " if
Beatrice bo indeed innocent, I have been the
greatest wretch— the vilest miscreant that ever
wore the human form ! But tell me what Luigi
has said — keep me not in this awful suspense^
let me know the precise circumstances of that posi-
tion in which I have placed myself !"

The Count evidently made a powerful effort to
maintain a sufficient degree of calmness while he
listened to the explanations I had to give. Ho
sat down : I also took a chair; and without going
back to any of the occurrences in connexion with
my acquaintance with Beatrice, I started at once
from that point where Luigi's avowals commenced.
In short, I detailed everything that within the
past hour had been extracted from the lips of that
Italian valet. The Count listened with a species
of dismayed consternation : his eyea seemed to
grow haggard — his cheeks hollow, as he sat in
silence, in front of me.

" And thus, you perceive, my lord," I said, in
winding up my statement, " that if Luigi had told
the truth on that memorable evening, his words
would have proved the innocence of the Countess
instead of confirming your suspicions !"

" My God, it is so !" moaned the wretched
nobleman, in a voice so woe-begone and with a
look of such ghastly anguish that the spectacle of
utter misery could not have been more appalling
if a death-sentence had just been pronounced
upon him. " Yes — I now comprehend it all
The letter which Beatrice wrote to me, contained
the most truthful details : and it was the villany
of Luigi that blinded me to that truth ! But, oh !
I will be terribly avenged !" he exclaimed, spring-
ing up from his seat ; " and with his life the
wretch shall pay the penalty of his black iniquities!"

The Count was rushing towards the door, when
I caught him by the arm, crying, " Unhappy man !
do you dare speak again of vengeance, when the
bare word itself ought to strike terror into your
heart and make you quiver from head to foot ?
Luigi is not here !— he has fled— and I question
whether he will ever dare return !"

The Count had gone back to his seat ; and there
he remained for a few moments, gazing upon me
with a look of dull vacant despair. His features
were now rigid ; and there was a ghastly paleness,
dead and inanimate, upon the natural swarthiness
of his complexion. All of a sudden he started up,
wringing his hands, and exclaiming, " Beatrice—
poor Beatrice ! how feari'ully have you suffered !
And I, miscreant that I have been — with less com-
passion than a fiend — with less mercy than a
demon !"

ELLEX PEKCY ; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS,

217

Then he again sank upon the chair : he burst
into an agony of weeping — he sobbed like a child.
Thus for some minutes he remained ; and I spoke
not a word. At length the violence of his afflic-
tion subsided somewhat; and accosting me, he
said in a low deep voice, " Tell me, Miss Trafford,
what am I to do? what reparation can I
make ?"

" It is not of me, my lord," I responded, " that
you are to usk these questions. Kneeling at the
feet of your injured wife, and in the presence of
ber relations, should you put them !"

" Yes, yes !" exclaimed the Count ; " there is
no atonement that I would not make ! But Ah !
first of all there is one thing to be done !" — and
again he rushed as if madly towards the door.

" What would you do ?" I asked, again seizing^
him by the arm: for I dreaded lest in his present
fearfully excited state of mind he should accom-
No. 28.— Ellen Teect.

plisU some rash act which would only plunge him
into still deeper misery.

He turned upon me a countenance in thi
expression of which horror and anguish were
hideously mingled ; and he said in a hoarse voice,
" That picture. Miss Trafiford, to which you have
alluded — that picture which the villain Luigi ad-
I mitted to you that he himself had painted — that
picture over which, with shame and sorrow I
admit, I have gloated — it must be destroyed !"
"Yes— go," I said, "my lord, and destroy it !"
He hurried from the room; and I sat down—
for I felt exhausted by the excitement of the
painful scene which had been taking place. Yet
in one sense there was the liveliest joy in my
heart : for the innocence of Beatrice was recog-
nised by her husband. Yes — most unequivocally
recognised !— and I saw that he was prtparcd to
proclaicn it in the presence of that injured wife of

218

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEES3.

his and in that of her relatives. Oh ! the reader
may comprehend the satisfaction that I thus ex-
perienced in having brought this important pro-
ceeding to so successful an issue.

In a few minutes the door opened ; and the
Count reappeared. His look was now calmer, but
full of mournfulness : his conscience seemed to be
partially relieved of the weight which had rested
upon it from the moment that his eyes were
opened to the conviction of his wife's innocence.

" The picture is destroyed, Miss Trafford !" he
said, closing the door behind Jiitn. " First of all
I took it forth from the portfolio in which I was
wont to keep it: I trampled it under foot— in my
rage and fury I defaced with the heels of my boots
the horrible delineations that were there — then I
tore it into a thousand fragments — and finally I
burnt them all — watching until the last spark
died out of the last piece of shrivelled tinder !"

It was thus in an excited manner that the
Count of Carboni spoke. It seemed to me as if
— though comparatively calm now to what his
state of mind was ere he left the room — he could
not possibly subdue himself ihto complete tran-
quillity. His disposition was alike mercurial and
sombre : his feelings were as easily acted upon as
the wires of a galvanic battery hj an electric
spark; but the eifect with him was far from being
80 transitory. I saw that he was one of those
men who in their madness could do frightful
deeds — but in whose remorse there #as a tinge of
that same madness still. Thus I trembled for the
consequences ; because I knew that though the
lips of Beatrice might pronounce the word " par-
don," yet that never again could she consort with
a man who had persecuted her so diijbolically.
Nevertheless, whatever those consequences might
be, it was of paramount importance that an inter-
view should take place between that man and his
injured wife in the presence of her relatives, in
order that her innocence might be effectually pro-
claimed.

" Now, my lord," I said, " will you come with
me?"

He understood what I meant ; and be ex-
claimed, " Yes — Oh, yea ! I now yearn to accom-
plish that duty which is the first of the atonements
that I have to make !"

" But undefstand me well, my lord," I em-
phatically said : " it is the onli/ atonement you
have to make ! Proclaim the innocence of your
wife — and you will have done as much as under
existing circumstances it is in your power to
accomplish. It is not by any rash deed, such as
by avenging yourself upon Luigi — nor by any
self-inflicted punishment — that you will prove
your contrition or administer balm to the wounded
spirit of Beatrice."

" Come, Miss Trafford," said the nobleman, who
appeared to have listened somewhat impatiently
to my words, and who offered no comment upon
them.

We issued forth together ; and we proceeded in
a cab to the house v;here Beatrice dwelt with the
Marquis and Marchioness of CampanoUa. I
stopped the cab at a short distance ; and alighting,
I said to the Count, " Suffer me, my lord, to pre-
cede you at an interval of a few raiuutcs, su that I
mity prepare them for the interview which is about
to take place."

"Yes— a few minutes!" ejaculated the Count
impatiently : and it really seemed as if he could
neither speak nor act except under the influence
of a constitutional excitement.

I entered the house : I found the Marquis and
Marchioness alone together in the drawing-room ;
for Beatrice was in her own chamber.

"Now at length," I said, "the project which I
had in hand, and concerning which I have so
steadily abstained from giving you any details, has
reached a successful termination! The villain
Luigi, who is in London, has confessed everything :
the Count of Carboni is satisfied of the innocence
of his much injured wife; and he is coming to
proclaim it. In a few minutes he will be here !"

The Marchioness embraced me with fervour:
the Marquis pressed my hand; — and both were
profoundly affected. I requested her ladyship to
hasten and prepare Beatrice for the interview
that was about to take place. She retired accord-
ingly ; and during her brief absence, I entered
into some particulars with the Marqtiis. Pre-
sently the Marchioness returned to the room,
accompanied by her sister ; and the latter, bound-
ing forward, caught me in her arms, exclaiming
that she had every reason to love me also as a
sister. Scarcely bad Beatrice regained some
little degree of composure, when the door was
thrown open, and a domestic announced the name
of the Count of Carboni.

The servant immediately retired : the Count
threw himself upon his knees at the feet of
Beatrice— his face bent downward : ho dared not
look up into her own. A deadly pallor overspread
fbe countenance of Beatrice : she staggered back
a pace or two — but the Marchioness arid myself
•^ete close at hand to sostain her. A rapid
glance which I flung towards (We Marqtiis, showed
me how strong a sense of loathirig for the wretched
Count was depicted upofl Ms features : but it was
with a veritable horror that Beatrice looked down
upon the kneeling, self-abasing form of her hus-
band. And no wonder ! For could she avoid
thinking at the moment of that frightful period
when he was locked in the room at the chateau,
along with herself and the ignominiously sus-
pended corpse of Angelo Marano ?

"Beatrice, you are innocent!" exclaimed the
Count of Carboni. " I proclaim you to be inno-
cent ! But as for i/our forgiveness "

He stopped short : he slowly raised his eyes
towards the countenance of his wife; and then he
passionately exclaimed, "Oh, I see that it is im-
possible you can forgive me !"

It was now that Beatrice, exercising the
strongest control over her feelings, said in a clear
but tremulous voice, " Yes — I forgive you ! But
understand me well, my lord ! Everything is at
an end between us ! I am your wife only in
name — and never more may wo dwell together !"

" I dared not expect it, Beatrice," answered the
Count. " I scarcely dared even expect that you
would forg? ve me ! I thank you — heaven knows
that from the bottom of my heart I thank you!
And now farewell for ever !"

Having thus spoken, the Count bent one lin-
gering look of utter misery upon his wife; and he
then hurried from the room. None of us chose
to make a movement to detain him. Wliat had
we to say ? wherefore should we prolong a scene

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTEES8.

219

whicb, though it had lasted but a few minutes,
was painful enough ?

There was a long interval of silence; and it
was broken by a repetition of the most grateful
expressions and affectionate assurances towards
mjself. I described how the confession of Luigi
had been elicited — but without compromising
Zarah by name, or speaking of her otherwise than
as a young female in whom I was interested, and
who had consented to sacrifice her own feelings
somewhat in order to accomplish the task which
I had entrusted to her. On taking my leave of
Beatrice and her relations, it was with a sense of
the supremest satisfaction in having been enabled
to minister to their happiness.

On the following day I called at an early hour
upon Zarah ; for I was anxious to learn whether
Luigi had reappeared, and also whether the Count
of Carboni had indicated a continuance of a
morbid state of excitement. In respect to the
first point I learnt that the perfidious valet had
not shown himself at the house since ho fled on
the preceding day : but as for the Count, he bad
returned thither after his visit with me to the
mansion of the Marquis — he had ordered his
eflfects to be packed up— and be had suddenly de-
parted, Zarah knew not whither.

I thence proceeded to the bouse of the Mar-
quis; and there important tidings awaited rae.
A solicitor had called at the mansion about half-
an-hour previously: he had inquired for the
Countess of Carboni ; and he had placed in her
hands a deed which he said her husband had in-
structed him to draw up with all possible despatch.
Its purport was to make over to Beatrice at least
nine- tenths of his large fortune; so that while
the Count thus suddenly enriched his wife, he
retained for himself a very moderate income.
The deed invested her with the possession of all
the Count's Italian domains, with theio»e excep-
tion of the chateau and estate of Carboni in the
south of Tuscany near the Roman frontier.
Having made Beatrice acquainted with the out-
lines of the deed, the solicitor had informed her
that bis lordship her husband intended to retire
altogether from the world and bury himself in
some remote seclusion.

Such was the intelligence which awaited me. I
farther learnt that Beatrice had at first hesitated
to accept the deed from the solicitor's hands ; but
that her scruples were overruled by the represen-
tations of her sister and her brother-in-law, who
made her comprehend that there was no necessity
for her to refuse this proof of her husband's pro-
found sorrow for the past and of his anxiety to
make every possible atonement.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

MAKT GLENTWOKTH.

TTpwaeds of three months passed from the inci-
dents which I have just been relating. It was
now verging towards the close of June in the year
1841 : and I was nineteen years of age. Ten
months had elapsed since the mock-marriage
which had afforded Juliet a temporary happiness,
and had subsequently plunged her into so much

misery. The time was close at hand when she
was to become a mother. There was likewise now
a vacation in the theatrical world ; and I received
a very kind letter from Mrs. Oldcastle, requesting
me to spend it at River House. She intimated
that she would thereby not merely enjoy the plea-
sure of my society, but that Juliet would have her
dearest friend near her in the hour of her trial.
Mr. Norman received at the same time a letter
from Mrs. Oldcastle, suggesting that it would be
more expedient for himself and his wife to con-
tinue to keep away from the abode whero their
daughter had found a home, as their presence at
River House would only multiply the chances
of Juliet's identity being discovered. 'For at
that house and in that neighbourhood she was
passing under the name of Mrs. Hall — a hint
having been dropped that her husband was
abroad.

In consequence of these letters, it was agreed
that Mr. and Mrs. Norman should go and pass the
vacation at their favourite watering-place. Rams-
gate ; while I was to repair to River House. I
did not exactly know what to do with Beda : I
did not like to leave her alone with the servants in
Hunter Street ; I did not choose to consign her
to the care of Zarah, for fear lest the gipsy's old
grandmother should chance to behold her there,
and repenting of having lost her, endeavour to
entice her away again ; and I did not of course
feel inclined to take her with me to River House,
unless with the consent of Mrs. Oldcastle. I had
every faith in Beda's sincerity as well as kindness
of disposition : but still I saw that it would be
improper to intrust her with Juliet's secret. The
difficulty was however solved by Mr. and Mrs.
Norman volunteering to take her with them to
Ramsgate.

Beda was much distressed when I told her that
we must temporarily separate ; and though I
spoke most kindly to her, yet she fell at my feet ;
and with the tears standing in her large lustrous
eyes, she asked in a voice tremulous with emotion
whether I had any reason to be displeased with
her ? I embraced the poor girl, — assuring her that
during the four months she had been in my ser-
vice, I had never once regretted our acquaintance
— that I was sorry to part with her even for a
few weeks — but that I was going to stay with a
lady who was very particular, and who did not like
to have strangers in her household. Beda was
comforted ; and she agreed to follow Mr. and Mrs.
Norman to Ramsgate.

But there was another matter of even greater
importance, which at first gave me some little
difficulty and uneasiness. At the very time that
I received Mrs. Oldcastle's kind letter, the post
brought me an nfi'dctionate and joyously written
one from Henry Wakefield. The business which
had so long detained him in the United States,
was verging towards its completion : he had suc-
ceeded in recovering all the moneys due to Mr.
Macdonald, the Paisley manufacturer ; and it was
his intention to return to his native country with
the least possible delay. He farther informed me
that on his arrival at Liverpool, he should as a
matter of course in the first instance repair to
Paisley, where he hoped to find letters from me ;
but that the very instant he had settled his ac-
counts with Mr. Macdonald, he should speed to

220

ELtEir FESCT; OK, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTRESS.

London to fold me in his arms. This letter, as
well as the numerous preceding ones I had re-
ceived from Harry, breathed the purest love and
the most unchanging afifection ; and I wept with
a blissful pleasure over the epistle as I held it in
my hands.

But what course was I to adopt ? If Henry
Wakefield were to arrive in London during my
absence at Eiver House, he would assuredly set off
after me on finding I was not in Hunter Street;
and thus sooner or later it would be impossible to
conceal Juliet's secret from his knowledge. That
secret was not my own ; and I was bound to shield
it to the utmost of my ability. At length, after
much reflection, I resolved how to act. I wrote
a letter — directed to Henry, to the care of Mr.
Macdonald at Paisley— wherein I requested my
cousin to send me an anssver announcing his arri-
val the instant he received it, so that I might have
the satisfaction of being assured of his safety.
The servants in Hunter Street knew that I was
about to pay a visit to Eiver House near Dover :
they knew likewise that Juliet was there — but
they were ignorant of her situation. I gave them
express orders that all letters whieh might arrive
for me, should be at once posted to Eiver House.
By this arrangement I calculated that if I re-
ceived a letter from Henry while there, I could
hasten up to London and thus be in Hunter Street
before he was likely to reach the metropolis — as I
had no doubt that business matters would detain
him a day or two in Paisley after his arrival in
Great Britain. I felt hurt, and even shocked, at
being compelled to have recourse to what appeared
to me a certain degree of petty manoeuvring : but
it was all for Juliet's sake, and to guard against
the possibility of her secret being discovered by
any sudden and unexpected visit on the part of
my cousin at Eiver House.

But before I dismiss the present subject I must
state that the moment had now come when it was
absolutely necessary for me to reveal to Harry
that Ellen Percy and the celebrated Miss Trafford
were one and the same person. Though upwards
of nine months had elapsed since he set out on his
trans-atlantic voyage — and though a constant cor-
respondence had been maintained between us — yet
had I lacked the moral courage to make the com-
plete revelation, I had however in my letters,
under the guise of gossiping information, recorded
a variety of facts to disabuse him of his prejudice
against the stage and the dramatic world in
general. I had thus prepared him for the final
announcement : but still that announcement itself
had not as yet been made. It was now impossible
to delay it any longer ; and I accordingly included
it in the letter which I addressed to him under
cover to the manufacturer at Paisley. It was
through no sentiment of idle vaniPj? — but in order
to gratify him, if possible, with the knowledge of
the fame whicli I had acquired — that I enclosed in
the letter several critiques from the leading news-
papers upon my performance ; and this I did all
the more willingly, inasmuch as in those critiques
there were frequent allusions to me as " a young
lady whoso unimpeachable character and personal
beauty were only equalled by her genius as the
greatest actress of the day." I likewise informed
Harry in this letter that I was in the receipt of
upwards of a thousand a yeac, with every prospect

of this income being shortly doubled ; and that
my savings were therefore already considerable.
I delicately hinted that my cousin therefore
need have no care for the future, inasmuch as it
mattered not in an alliance with two fond hearts
from which side riches emanated.

All preparations being complete, I set out on my
visit to Eiver House. I accompanied Mr. and
Mrs. Norman in the steam-vessel to Eamsgate ;
and thence on the following day I proceeded alone
by the coach to Dover. It was at about the hour
of noon when I reached the last-mentioned place ;
and as the weather in that month of June was
charming and delicious, I determined to walk to
Eiver House, which was only about a mile and a
half distant. Leaving my luggage therefore to the
care of the carrier, who was to bring it to its desti-
nation in the course of the afternoon, I set out.

I was soon beyond the precincts of the town of
Dover ; and when at a distance of about a mile, I
thought of assuring myself by inquiry that I was
in the nearest route to River House. I was at-
tracted by a beautiful little cottage-residence,
where the roses were blushing over the portico,
and where the open windows afforded a glimpse of
the neatly furnished parlours. This cottage stood
in the midst of a garden, where there were the
most beautiful flowers scattered over the well-kept
parterres, — between which the gravel walks were
wcy rolled^ an'', shining in the sunbeams. Tbo
garden-gate stood open ; and I entered. I was
about to accost an old gardener whom I beheld at
a little distance, busily engaged in his occupation,
— when a glance in the opposite direction revealed
to my view a young lady seated at work in a
summer-house. This summer-house was formed of
wood painted green : its architecture was quaint ;
and with the jasmine and clematis that twined up
the trellis-work over it, mingled with festooning
roses, it had a sweetly picturesque appearance.

The young lady did not immediately observe
me as my feet trod noiselessly over a grass-plat by
which the arbour was approached; and I there-
fore had an opportunity of contemplating that
pleasing picture before I made my presence
known. The occupant of the summer-house was
apparently about my own age— namely, nineteen.
Her dress v?as characterized by mingled neatness
and elegance. A profusion of light brown ringlets
escaped from beneath a beautiful little French
cap, and fell upon her shoulders. The corsage of her
light summer dress was open down to the waist :
but a habit-shirt was modestly closed up to the
throat. Her countenance had an expression of the
chastest innocence and of the purest thoughts : her
compleyion was fair — but upon her cheeks bloomed
the rose-hues of health. "While thus seated at her
work, she seemed to be of the medium stature—
symmetrically and finely formed — with the well-
rounded contours of a country-girl constantly in-
haling the fresh breeze, with its invigorating ad-
mixture of the saline properties afforded by the
close vicinage of the sea.

While I stood contemplating this young lady,
she laid down her work to take up a book ; and
it was at this instant that her eyes encountered
mine. And what beautiful eyes were those that
were thus raised towards me ! — eyes of a clear
liquid blue, only a shade darker than azure— full
of softness, and yet with a proper animation.

She at once rose from her seat, and cama forward,
tripping lightly down the two little steps by which
the entrance of the bower was reached. A smile
appeared upon her beautifully formed inoutb, as if
expressing her readiness to render me any service
in her power.

" I have to apologize most sincerely," I said,
" for my intrusion. I had merely intended to put
an inquiry to your gardener : but on happening to
perceive that this beautiful summer-house was oc-
cupied, I was encouraged to address myself to
you."

" And I am sure I am very much pleased !" re-
plied the young lady, in a frank cordial tone.
" But pray do not stand in the sun ! Come in
and rest yourself ; for I see," she added, glancing
down at the skirt of my dress, " that you have
been walking along the dusty road."

" Only from Dover," I observed, as I accepted
the young lady's invitation and followed her into
the summer-house, where we sat down together.
" I am on my way to a place which can be at no
great distance — I mean Eiver House."

" Ah, Mrs. Oldcastle's," said the young lady.
"You are not far off— about half-a-mile — and I
shall presently have the pleasure of indicating a
pathway through the fields. But let me offer you
some refreshment — some wine-and-water "

" !N^othing, I thank you. I shall soon bo at my
destination."

" Oh ! but you must taste our fine strawberries,"
exclaimed the young lady, with as much artless
ingenuous cordiality as if our acquaintance had
been one of weeks or months instead of minutes;
and before I could stop her, she had bounded
down the steps, and was gliding across the grass-
plat, which her beautifully shaped feet seemed
scarcely to touch.

She was gone therefore before I could ejaculate
a syllable to detain her. I mechanically took up
the book which lay upon a bench; and to my sur-
prise I found that it was one of those editions
of Shakspere which contain only the particular
dramas that may be read without offence to the
modesty. I saw that several passages had pencil-
marks against them, as if indicative ot the reader's
admiration and for more easy reference in future.
The parts thus noted bore strong testimony to the
taste of whomsoever had made them ; and I won-
dered whether I might therewith associate my
charming new acquaintance. On the fly-leaf of
the book was written, in a sweet feminine hand,
the name of Mary Glentworth,

I had scarcely time to put down the volume,
when the young lady came tripping back to the
summer-house, with a quantity of large freshly-
gathered strawberries piled up on a plate which
she bad made of vine leaves, and which she held
ia her two fair white hands.

"There!" she said, as she deposited her little
burden upon the table: "you must do me the
pleasure to taste them — they are so refreshing! I
tried to see if I could find an apricot for you— but
they are not yet quite ripe."

There was something so cordial, so ingenuous,
and frank-hearted in the young lady's manner,
that I felt as if I had already known her for a
considerable time ; and in order to please her, I
partook of the fruit.

" Oh ! you have been looking at my book," she

exclaimed, perceiving that it was removed from
the spot where she had left it. " When I am tired
of working "

" I hope there was no indiscretion," I said, " in
glancing into the volume "

" Indiscretion ? — no ! " cried the young lady,
opening her beautiful large eyes still more widely
in evident astonishment at my observation. " What
harm could there possibly be in looking at a book
which anybody may read — and which I am sure,"
she added emphatically, " everybody who can read
otiffht to read !"

" Ah !" I ejaculated : " this is your book ?" and
therefore I was at once convinced that she was
Mary Glentworth herself; and I was pleased to
have ascertained her name. " Shakspere, I sup-
pose, is a favourite of your's ?"

" If I were a silly romantic girl," replied Miss
Glentworth, laughing, " I should exclaim in a
paroxysm of enthusiam that I adore Sbakspere.
But to speak in more moderate language, I may
state that I take a greater pleasure in reading his
works than those of any other author. I would
give the world to see one of his plays represented
on the stage ! And if I dared envy any one —
whom do you think I most envy on the face of the
earth ?"

" I cannot possibly tell," I said, smiling.

" Well, then, I will enlighten you in respect to
these whimsical ideas of mine," continued Miss
Glentworth, in the same spirit of frank and
friendly good humour. " I would sooner be Miss
Trafford than any Queen that is seated upon a
throne ! I have read so much about her in the
newspapers and literary reviews, that I not only
admire her genius, but also her beauty of person
and her general character. Yet I have never seen
her Have you .'"' she somewhat abruptly in-
quired.

I thought it unnecessary to tell the young lady
who I was; for I did not wish to direct more
attention than I could help to Eiver House, where
I was about to sojourn, for fear lest I should mul-
tiply the chances of Juliet's secret being dis-
covered. I therefore said somewhat evasively,
"Yes — I have seen her occasionally. But now.
Miss Gleutwortb, I must take my leave of
you."

" Oh, do not go for a few minutes !" she ex-
claimed. "We are just touching upon a topic
that is so interesting to me! You can tell mo
about Miss Trafford "

" Another time. Miss Glentworth," I answered :
" for I am going to stay a few weeks in this neigh-
bourhood— and rest assured that after the kind
reception you have given me, I shall not fail to
pay my respects to you again. Perhaps, however,
you know Mrs. Oldcastle ? — you visit at River
House .''" — and yet even as I ' spoke I thought it
could scarcely be so; for if it were, Juliet would
hardly have failed to mention in her letters that
she had formed the acquaintance of so sweet and
amiable a being as Mary Glentworth.

"I only know Mrs. Oldcastle by sight," she re-
plied. " Mamma does not visit any one in the
neighbourhood : she tells me that she is not fond
of society ; — and as I have no friends nor com-
panions, I am thrown entirely on my own re-
sources. These however do not fail me : for be-
tween my work and my books and a few little

222

ELIii:]T PEECT; OE, THE MEITOIES OV AK ACTEESS.

household duties, I always contrive to occupy my-
self."

" And you will permit me to renew my visit," I
said ; '• and on a future occasioa I will tell you
more of Miss TrafiFord."

I then took my leave of my new acquaintance,
in whom I felt deeply interested. She indicated
the path through the fields which led towards i
River House ; and as I was proceeding to my des-
tination, I kept thinking of Mary Glentworth.
As she had spoken only of her mother and had
made no mention of her father, I concluded that
he was dead ; and I was somewhat surprised that
she should have formed no acquaintances in the
neighbourhood. It could not be from poverty, in-
asmuch as she herself was well dressed — and the
cottage, with its large garden, could only have been
in the occupation of a lady enjoying a competency.
However, I resolved to inquire more about her
when I should have an opportunity of speaking to
Mrs. Oldcastle at Eiver House.

My destination was reached ; and I found that
Mrs. Oldcastle's abode was— as it bad been repre-
sented to me — somewhat in the cottage-style, not
spacious but commodious, and furnished in a
handsome old-fashioned manner. It had a good
garden attached — besides stables and outhouses, —
everything, in short, denoting ample means on the
part of its proprietress. I was cordially welcomed
by that lady herself; and fervid was the embrace
in which I was strained by Juliet. Upwards of
four months had elapsed since last I saw my dear
friend Miss iJforman; and I was delighted to per-
ceive by her looks that she was not suffering much
iu her spirits, but was bearing up with fortitude
against the sense of the foul wrong she had sus-
t iined on the part of Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliflfe.

I soon had an opportunity of speaking to Mrs-
Oldcastle about Mary Glentworth ; and the mo-
ment I mentioned her name, I perceived to my
surprise that a dark shade came over the old lady's
countenance.

" Yes, indeed," she said, " from all I have
beard. Miss Glentworth is an amiable girl — and
she is greatly to be pitied."

" Pitied ! — in what respect ?" I exclaimed,
astonished and grieved at the answer just given.

" Do not ask me too many questions, my dear
Ellen," rejoined Mrs. Oldcastle. " It is not a
subject proper to be discussed by a young lady
like yourself. Suffice it for you to know that
Mary Glentworth is suffering from the effects of a
mother's fault."

" Poor girl !" I murmured : and so deeply was
I moved on her behalf that I felt the tears trick-
ling down my cheeks.

"Yes," continued Mrs. Oldcastle, " she is indeed
to be pitied : — but what can be done? Society is
imperious with its Taws. You see, my dear EUen,
that even in the case of your friend, my grand-
niece Juliet, we are compelled to take all kinds of
precautions, though she is really far from being
criminal — she has been infamously betrayed — and
her's is a pure misfortune without the slightest
scintillation of guilt. But it was different with
Mary Glentworth's mother — and the poor girl
suffers accordingly."

" Yet she herself must be ignorant of her
mother's false position," I said ; " for she spoke as

if it was Mrs. Glentworth herself who voluntarily
avoided society, instead of being shunned by it.

Yes — Mary Glentworth is really ignorant "

" It may be so — and perhaps it is," said Mrs.
Oldcastle. " But this much I can tell you, that
Mrs. Glentworth, as she calls herself, is every now
and then visited by a gentleman to whom she ia
indebted for the' income she enjoys. This at least

is indelicate "

" But are you sure," I inquired, " that there is
anything really improper in those visits ? — have
you the certainty that it is not some relative or
very dear friend concerning whom scandal may
have busied itself? So far as my knowledge of the
world extends — and so far as I have the power of
fathoming and appreciating the human character
— I feel convinced that Mary Glentworth must
have been brought up with the strictest propriety ;
for she is all artlessness, candour, and inno-
cence."

" It may be so," observed Mrs. Oldcastle, re-
peating that phrase which seemed to imply un-
charitable doubt and mistrust : or at least I
thought so— and it was a phrase which I did not
like.

"There can be no doubt," continued the old
lady, " of Mrs. Glentworth's position ; and as I
have already told you so much, I will tell you a
little more, Ellen — because I see that you have
an inclination to cultivate M'ss Glentworth's ac-
quaintance, and you must not do so. Some years
ago — it may be perhaps ten or eleven — Mrs.
Glentworth was residing, with her daughter, who
was then of course a child, at Hastings. There
she moved in excellent society — passing as a
widow; and as her manners are very ladylike, and
she is even still handsome, she was a general
favourite. Her conduct was moreover so circum-
spect— at least to- all outward appearance— that
no one entertained the slightest idea that her
character was in reality equivocal. But one day,
while she was walking with some of her fashionable
acquaintances, a gentleman — I do not think I
ever heard his name — or if I did I have forgotten
it However, it was a gentleman who had only
just arrived from London; and he immediately
recognised in Mrs. Glentworth the mistress of a
friend of his— or rather I should say, such had
been her position a few years previously. I do
not exactly know what ensued, or how the dis-
agreeable incident terminated at the time : but
very certain it is that Mrs. Glentworth speedily
quitted Hastings and came to settle in this neigh-
bourhood. She had the good taste to avoid
making overtures towards the society here, — well
aware perhaps that her evil reputation could not
fail to follow her "

" The tale," I observed, "has two features which
strike me as somewhat extraordinary. In the first
place why did Mrs. Glentworth come into a neigh-
bourhood which is only so short a distance from
that where her exposure took place? — and why did
she not at least assume another name ?"

'•' Perhaps," answered Mrs. Oldcastle, " she
wished after that exposure to seclude herself as it
were from the world, and make no further attempts
to get into society, but to accept her position as a
lost and degraded woman. If this be the solution
of the mystery which seems to bewilder you, it
will account for both your questions. Besides, you

ELIES PESCT; OE, the MEM0IE8 OP AS ACTEES8.

=-523

must remember that at the time when the unplea-
sant incifknt occurred at Hastings, Mary Glent-
worth was a girl old enough to know the name
which her mother and herself had been accustomed
to bear; and any change of name would have ex-
cited Mary's surprise — while it would have also
been a circumstance which a young girl could
scarcely have been tutored to keep as a profound
secret. And now, Ellen, I have told you enough
to make you comprehend that you cannot with
propriety repeat your visit to that cottage, nor
cultivate the acquaintance of Miss Glentworth."

I said no more upon the subject : but I was
much afflicted at the tale I had beard and at the
injunctions which I bad just received — and all the
more so because I could not fail to recognise the
necessity of acting in obedience to the latter.

Four days after my arrival at Eiver House,
Juliet Norman became the mother of a son; and
when she pressed her babe to her bosom, she
seemed to forget awhile, in the joy and pride of
maternity, the circumstances of sorrow which had
preceded and of mystery which attended the birth
of her offspring. I wrote to Mrs. Norman to
acquaint her with the secret, and to assure both
her and her husband that they need not entertain
the slightest apprehension in reference to Juliet's
health : and in order that the servants might not
entertain a suspicion by seeing the address of this
letter, I took it myself to the post-office at Dover.
I should here observe, in explanation of my pre-
ceding remark, that of Mrs. Oldcastle's domestic
household only the lady's-maid and the footman
who had accompanied her to London were aware
that Juliet's real name was Norman instead of
Hall ; and on their discretion Mrs. Oldcastle could
place the strictest reliance.

The return of post brought a reply from Mrs.
Norman, expressing her own and her husband's
gratification to learn that Juliet was progressing
80 favourably ; and desiring me to thank Mrs.
Oldcastle on their behalf for all hsr kindness
towards their daughter, ilrs. Norman's letter
went on to touch upon other matters, giving me
certain information which caused me some alarm
and uneasiness. The special paragraphs to which
I am now alluding were as follow : —

" I am sorry to say that I cannot send you a
very good account of the conduct of Beda, whose
proceedings are alike irregular and mysterious.
She frequently absents herself for hours together ;
and when questioned by myself or Mr. Norman,
she either gazes with her large dark eyes fixed
upon us with unintelligible meaning — or else she
simply says that ' she has no explanation to give
except to her mistress, Miss Percy.' Last evening
she thus absented herself at about six o'clock, and
did not return until past eleven. We sat up
for her, full of anxiety and alarm lest some acci-
dent should have befallen her, or that she had ab-
sconded altogether. When she returned to the
house, she glided up to her own chamber, though
positively told that Mr. Norman and myself were
desirous to speak to her: and when we just now
questioned her in respect to these improper and
intolerable proceedings, she again replied simply
' that she would explain herself only to her young
mistress, Miss Percy.' I remonstrated with her
very strongly on her conduct,* and threatened to
write to you. Then her large eyes lighted up with

an expression which really seemed to be one of joy
instead of apprehension and alarm. You see, my
dear Ellen, it is impossible for us to do anything
with Seda under these circumstances ; and it is all
the more inconvenient because the landlady of the
house where we are lodging, has made representa-
tions on the point. I hope, in the name of heaven,
that Beda has not fallen in with bad company ; but
in any case it is a matter on which I could not
keep silent. If you could possibly leave Kiver
House for only a single day and run over to Eams-
gate, you might fathom this mystery, and if it be
not yet too late, rescue this young creature from
the path of destruction ! By the bye, I had al-
most forgotten to observe that when Beda thus ab-
sents herself, she lays aside her good apparel, and
dresses in a strange mean unbecoming way ; so
that the mystery is indeed all the greater, inas-
much as that vanity which one might think would
prompt a young girl to go out in her best raiment,
seems to be rendered secondary to other considera-
tions, whatsoever they may be."

Such were the paragraphs in Mrs. Norman's
letter which at first filled me with anxiety and ap-
prehension. But as I reflected upon them, I felt
my suspicions which were injurious to Beda gra-
dually diminishing; while the thought was stealing
into my mind that the young girl might be en-
gaged in penetrating some scheme that had come
to her knowledge, and which might after all pro-
bably regard myself. But, however the case might
be, I saw the necessity of at once repairing to
Eamsgate; and as my absence would only be for
that day and a portion of the next, I had no diffi-
culty in making some pretest to Mrs. Oldcastle
and Juliet.

The letter to which I have alluded, reached me
at about ten o'clock in the morning ; and by two
in the afternoon I was at Eamsgato.

CHAPTEE, XL.

THE YACHT.

The Normans occupied handsome lodgings iu a
genteel house belonging to one of the Crescents
upon the Heights. On my arrival, I learnt that
Beda was again absent — and that it was about
noon when, attired in the very worst apparel she
possessed', she had stolen out of the house by the
back way. When she would return, was a matter
of the utmost uncertainty.

"Beda is a singular creature," I said: "but I
have every faith in her good principles. Let us
not judge her prematurely: she may have the
most satisfactory explanations to give in respect to
her conduct. When she returns, be so kind as to
leave us alone together ; and she will speak frankly
and openly to me."

"1 am delighted to hear, my dear Ellen," ex-
claimed Mrs. Norman, " that you have such faith
in Beda's propriety. It would indeed be shocking
to think that a young girl who possesses such ex-
traordinary beauty, and in whom you have so
much interested yourself, should have fallen into
bad society."

" Nothing," added Mr. Norman, " would afflict
mo more than such a calamitous result. — But

224

EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF Alf ACTEESS.

come, my dear," he said, turning to his wife : "you
and I will go out for a walk, so as to leave Ellen
by herself that she may catechise the girl on her
return."

Mr. and Mrs. Norman went out accordingly ; and
they had not left the house many minutes, before
my ear caught the sounds of footsteps gliding
rapidly and lightly up the staircase : for I had
purposely left the drawing-room door ajar in order
to listen for Beda's return. I started up from my
seat, and appeared before the young gipsy -girl just
as she was tripping across the landing. Imme-
diately upon perceiving me, she gave vent to a
cry of joy : and bounding towards me seized my
hand, which she pressed to her lips. There were
all the evidences of a most real and unfeigned
delight in her conduct and her looks ; so that not
for an instant could I doubt that my presence
was a source of satisfaction to her, and that she
did not regard it as an interference with any im-
proper pursuits in which she was engaged.

I bade her follow me into the drawing-room ;
and as I took my seat upon the sofa, I had now
leisure to regard her with more attention than at
the first instant of our meeting. She was dressed
in that same style as when I beheld her for the
first time at the door of Zarah's lodgings in Lon-
don. The skirt of her apparel was short, reveal-
ing her beautifully shaped ankles ; and she held in
her hands an old battered straw bonnet. The
body of her dress was very low : but a dingy cAe.
misette was modestly buttoned up to the throat.
She had an old scanty shawl : her raven hair
seemed to have been purposely dishevelled, as if to
complete the negligence of her appearance. In-
deed, I saw at once that she had studied to give
herself a mean air and also a gipsy-like aspect.

" Beda," I said, in a serious though kind tone,
" you can probably conjecture why I am here ?"

" And I wished to see you, Miss," replied Beda.
"Mrs. Norman threatened to write to you concern-
ing me ; and I was glad. I myself would have
written, only that I knew not your address ; and I
thought that if I asked Mrs, Norman for it, she
would imagine it was a mere piece of insolence on
my part— a sort of defiance of her menace to make
known my proceedings to you."

" And those proceedings, Beda P" I said, with
increased confidence in the young girl: " no doubt
you will be enabled to explain them P"

Beda fixed her large, luminous, unfathomable
dark eyes upon my countenance j and after a few
moments' silence, she said, " At least yow. Miss, do
not believe that I have been guilty of anything
improper ?"

"It is with pleasure I give you the assurance,
Beda," I replied, " that I entertained the hope that
your conduct would admit of the fullest and most
satisfactory explanation. " And now tell me "

"Miss Percy," interrupted Beda, "I will tell
you nothing at present : but this evening you shall
know everything. It is most fortunate you have
arrived to-day I"

" And wherefore keep me in suspense ?" I in-
quired : " what good can it do to withhold your
explanations for several hours ?"

Beda gave no answer : but first she gazed upon
me with those unfathomable eyes of hera : then
she slowly bent her looks downward, and seemed
absorbed in deep reflection.

I " You do not give me any reply," I at length
'< said. " If you will not explain yourself, Beda, at
i least show me a reason for deferring that explana-
I tion."

" No, Miss Percy," answered Beda, firmly but
respectfully : " I can at present say nothing to
afiford you the slightest clue to the reading of this
^mystery. You know that I am incapable of de-
ceiving you ! — you have the fullest confidence in
me — and I deserve it. Wait until the evening ;
and then, at about nine o'clock, you will see more
of the business which I have in hand — and which,
as you doubtless already surmise, regards your-
self."

I knew not precisely how to act : I did not like
this strange mysterious behaviour on Beda's part ;
and yet I saw by the decision with which she
spoke that it was useless to press her for any in-
formation at present. I was aware also that she
was a singular creature — belonging to a singular
race ; and that she might therefore choose to work
out her own plans according to her own fashion.

" At nine o'clock, you say, Beda, I shall knovr
more ?" I at length observed.

" At nine o'clock punctually," she answered, " I
will join you in the bed-chamber which is ap-
pointed for your use."

She then tripped lightly out of the room ; and
I sat reflecting upon all that had passed bettveen
us, until Mr. and Mrs. Norman returned from
their walk. I told them that Beda had deferred
explanations until the evening, — at the same time
expressing my conviction that the girl was sincere
and straightforward, though singular and self-
willed, in her mode of proceeding. Mr. and Mrs.
Norman were much in the habit of yielding to my
opinion and suffering themselves to be influenced
by my judgment; so that they now shared in the
conviction which I myself entertained.

A few minutes before nine o'clock I ascended
to my bed-chamber, where I found Beda waiting.
She was dressed in precisely the same manner as
when she returned to the house in the afternoon ;
and her countenance expressed a settled firmness
of decision, as if she had some serious and im-
portant object in view.

" Be so kind. Miss," she said, " to put on your
bonnet and scarf — draw down your veil — and come
with me."

I hesitated to comply with this request. "Was
it possible that Beda could be deceiving me, and
that she was about to lead me into some snare ?
"Was she indeed a secret enemy, wearing the mask
of friendship ? — was she the instrument of the
foes whom I had to dread— St. Clair and Lady
Lilla Essendine ? I looked her full in the face : I
perceived a transient flushing — but very slight —
upon that beautiful countenance ; and she said,
" You mistrust me, Miss Percy ! I see what is
passing in your mind. "Were I thus wrongly
judged by any other person in the world, I would
at once abandon the project which I have in view

yes, with indignation would I abandon it, and

I would leave that person to her fate !"

"Beda," I said, "you really cannot be asto-
nished if for a moment I hesitated to abandon
myself to a mystery which is so dark and there-
fore suspicious. But I will go with you. If
you save me from any imminent peril, there are
no words too kmd to flow from my lips in the

ELLEN TERCT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AK ACTEESS.

expressiou of my gratitude. But if you mean me
mischief, you will never know another hour's hap-
piness ; for, as you are aware, my intentions have
ever been most disinterested and benevolent to-
wards you."

Bcda's splendid eyes lighted up with joy and
confidence; and I again reposed the fullest trust
in her. I put on my bonnet and scarf — drew
down the veil — and followed her. Wo issued forth
by the back part of the house ; and Beda, who
led the way — having threaded three or four streets
— conducted me down to the harbour.

The reader will bear in mind that the incidents
which I am relating took place at the close of the
month of June. The weather was beautiful; and
at that hour— a little past nine o'clock— it was
light enough for all objects to be plainly dis-
CPriiible. Beda tripped lightly along, keeping
about four or five yards in front of me ; and we
thus entered upon one of the piers. Thcro were
No. 29.— Ellen Peect.

several vessels in the harbour — some moored
against the piers, others attached to buoys in tha
middle of the basins. It was now towards one of
the former vessels that Beda bent her steps ; and
having flung her looks rapidly around, she ap-
proached the ship's side. It was ouito hig'a
water; and the starlight was shining brilliantly
upon the bosom of the full basin. The vessel to
which I am specially alluding, struck me as being
a beautiful craft, little experienced though I was
in such matters. It had two tall taperinjf masts,
leaning considerably backward — or " raking," as
I believe the nautical term is. Its deck was of re-
markable cleanliness; and the brass- work brightly
reflected the silver lustre shed from the heavens.
I should observe that there were only three or
four persons upon the pier besides ourselves — or
at least only those within the range of our vision ;
and they were at some little distance. 1 beheld
nobody on board the vessel itself; and I wondered

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBMOIHS OF AN ACXEESS.

why £oda was seeking it, and what it could pos-
sibly have to do with the business she had in
hand.

" William !" she said — or rather gently called
out with her musical voice ; and the summons was
immediately answered by some person emerging
from one of the cabins of the vessel.

He hastened along the deck, towards the
spot where we were standing ; and I now per-
ceived that he was a young man — I might even
say a youth, of about seventeen or eighteen years
of age— with a dark complexion, but remarkably
handsome features. He was dressed in a sailor's
garb— white trousers, a blue jacket, and a low
glazed hat with a light blue ribbon. His attire
was remarkably neat ; and there was a certain air
of superiority about the youth which I might
almost term gentility. He looked like one of the
picked crew of a yacht; and indeed it had already
struck me, by what I could see of the vessel's ap-
pointments, that it was of this description. I
should add that the youth was moderately tall,
and slender : his dark hair was arranged in thick
clustering curls: he had fine bright eyes; and as he
greeted Beda with a friendly familiarity, his part-
ing lips revealed a set of teeth as white as ivory,

"Is it all right?" inquired Beda.

" Yes," he responded : " I am alone io the
yacht : all my mates are at the public-house yonder
— as I told you they would be. And this lady "

"Tbis is Miss Percy," answered Beda, — "the
lady to whom I am indebted for the happiness
which I enjoy — my kind benefactress for whom I
could never do too much !"

The young sailor took oS his hat, and made me
a respectful bow.

" You will come on board. Miss f" said Beda j
"for it is here that you have something to see
which must serve as the preliminary to the expla-
nations I shall afterwards have to give."

Again there was a momentary hesitation on my
part — but so transient that Beda did not see it j
and the nest instant I myself was ashamed of it.
We both of us stepped on board tho vessel; and
the youthful sailor, whoso Cbristiaa name ap-
peared to be William, led the way towards the
entrance to the cabia in the stern of the vessel.
We descended the stairs ; and as a light was
burning in that cabin, I was enabled at a glance
to behold the beauty of its appointments. It was
more spacious, than I could have conceived it to
be : it was fitted up with damask ^ofas, and there I
was an elegant little table in the middle. The '
painting, the gilding, the mirrors set in the panels,
—all were exquisitely tasteful. But still, as L
looked around, I wondered what possible con- !
nexiou there could exist between this vessel and
any circumstances which regarded myself.

The young sailor, on receiving a sign from
Beda, drew forth from his pocket a small instru-
ment which resembled a turnscrew; and with this
ho unhesitatingly forced open a door— which, as I
immediately perceived, communicated with another
cabin. This latter was smaller than the first
mentioned : but it was fitted up in an 'equally
elegant style. I was struck with astonishment at
the proceeding by which that door was forced
open ; and I was even alarmed lest I myself should
become implicated in the consequences of so bur-
glarious a doed ; for both the door and tho frame-

work were so much injured that it would be im-
possible to conceal the evidences of the violence
from the eyes of others. Beda however flung
upon me a reassuring look ; and William, taking
up tho wax-candle which was burning in the
larger cabin, led the way into the smaller one.

There was a writing-case upon the table; and
this Beda at once opened. She turned over tho
leaves of the blotting paper, as if anxiously search-
ing for some document which she expected to find
there ; and on perceiving a sheet of note-paper
with writing upon it, she ejaculated, " Ah ! here it
is ! Look at tbis. Miss Percy," she added, placing
the note in my hand.

On glancing at it, I was smitten with astonish-
ment on recognising what seemed to be my own
handwriting : but even greater still was my amaze-
ment when I caught sight of the first words—
" My dear Mrs, Norman."

" Eead it," said Beda, — " there is no breach of
faith nor violation of the sanctity of corre-
spondence, when so foul a forgery has been com-
mitted,"

I hesitated not for another moment to read tho
billet, the contents of which I found to rua as
follow :—

"Mt deae Mks. Noemaw,—
"You will be surprised on receiving this to
learn that I shall go back to you no more. I have
j for some time cherished an attachment towards
one who is in every way worthy of my love ; and
to whose keeping I have resolved to entrust my
happiness. There are reasons which prevent me
from giving more specific explanations at present :
but you shall know all shortly. To yourself aud
Mr. Norman I proffer the tribute of my deepest
gratitude for all the kindnesses I have received at
your hands; and to Juliet you will convey for me
the assurance of my lasting love, I have two re-
quests to make ; and I rely upon your friendship
for their accomplishment. The first is, that you
will pack up all my effects wheresoever they may
be scattered about, in London or at my late resi-
dence, and keep them until they shall be called
for by some one who will be empowered to receive
j them. The other request is that you will make
known to all my friends and acquaintances the
contents of this letter; so that there may be no
uneasiness in any quarter on account of my sud-
den disappearance. With one of those friends of
mine I hate deposited a packet of papers, in-
teresting only to myself; and this will of course
be consigned to your hands when the nature of
the present letter shall be made known. That
packet you will be kind enough to place amongst
my other effects,

" With renewed assurances of gratitude and
love,

"I remain, my dear Mrs, Norman,

" Yours very sincerely,
" Ellen Peect."

Ejaculations of indignation kept bursting from
my lips as I perused this billet : but mingled with
my other feelings was au illimitable amazement at
tho extraordinary accuracy with which my hand-
writing hal been imitated. Indeed, tho resem-
blance was so perfect that if the contents had
only been of a nature which at some period or

ELLEX PEECT ; Oil, THB MEMOIES OV AK ACTRE99.

anotlier I miglit have composed, I should have
assuredly believed that it teas iny own writing.
Suspicion for many reasons pointed to Lady Lilla
Easendine as the authoress of the forgery, and to
St, Clair as her accomplice. I turned to ques-
tion Beda: but she, anticipating my intention,
Said, " Not now, Miss ! You shall know every-
thing presently. Wo have yet a deed to per-
form."

Again her dark eyes flung a signal at the youth-
ful sailor ; and he lost no time in obeying it. We
returned into the other cabin ; and there William,
having deposited the was candle upon the table,
proceeded to lift off the cushion of one of the
sofas.

"K?ep that note," hastily whispered Beda to
me, as I still retained the odious forgery in my
hand.

I accordingly secured the document about my
parson, — watching the while the proceedings of
the young mariner William. He had lifted off, as
I have said, the cushion of the sofa, — the frame-
work of which, as the reader will understand, was
a permanent fixture on one side of the cabin j so
that indeed it resembled an oriental divan. In the
flat surface of the boarding on which the cushion
had rested, a small square was made to lift out ;
j and when that piece of wood was removed, there
appeared an upright bar of iron, with a cross
handle of the same metal. Upon this cross-piece
the young mariner fixed his hands firmly ; and he
turned it completely round— a proceedinjj which
required a considerable degree of force. He then
hastily replaced the little trap-door, threw back the
cushion over it, and flung a look of strange mean-
ing upon Beda. Immediately after the turning of
that iron handle, my ears caught a sound like that
of gurgling water underneath the floor of the
cabin ; and I glanced towards Beda for an expla-
nation.

" Now let us away !" cried the young girl : and
she pushed me towards the carpeted stairs.

There was something in the words which she
uttered and the movement by which they were ac-
companied, that seemed to imply the necessity of
haste ; and I sped up the staircase. Beda was
close behind me, — the young man bringing up the
rear ; and in a moment we all three stood upon
the deck.

" Now, Miss Percy," said Beda, " we have no-
thing more to do here .'"

" But I insist upon knowing," I exclaimed,
" whet all this means :" — for I felt frightened, and
had vague sensations of terror creeping over me
at what seemed to be the sinister mystery of these
proceedings.

"You shall know all directly," answered Beda.
" Good bye, William," she added, turning towards
the youth to whom she extended her hand. " A
thousand thanks for all that you have done."

" Whatever he may have done," I hastened to
observe, " whether right or whether wrong, it has
evidently been with the intention of serving me ;
andij!^ must reward him :" — at the same time I
drew forth my purse.

" No reward will I take. Miss Percy," replied

William firmly ; and again making me a respectful

bow, he retreated to the farther extremity of the

vessel,

Boda and I now stepped upon the pier ; and

the young gipsy girl hurried me along towards the
town. Just as we woro emerging from the pier,
we beheld a female figure, closely veiled rapidly
approaching. Beda — who was on the side nearest
to her— laid her hand upon the arm of that veiled
lady, for a lady she evidently was; and the young
gipsy girl said to her in a low clear voice, "Every-
thing is discovered, and you are baffled."

Tne lady stopped short; and the single ejacula-
tion " Ah !" burst from her lips : but Beda hurried
me along — the iron gate at the entrance of tho
pier was passed through — and as I glanced behind,
I perceived the veiled lady still standing, as if
transfixed, upon tho spot where we had left her.

" Who was that person, Beda?" I asked, though
not without a suspicion as to what the response
might be.

" That person. Miss," answered tho gipsy girl,
"is tho authoress of the letter which you havo
about you— the one whose hand perpetrated the
odious forgery ! It is Lady Lilla Essendine."

"I thought so!" I exclaimed. "And that
yacht "

"It belongs to Captain St. Clair," rejoined
Beda.

There also my surmise was correct : but I asked
no Aore questions — for we were proceeding rapidly
through the streets, and in a few minutes we
should be at home.

The house was reached : we re-entered by the
back way ; and unobserved by a soul, we regained
my bed-chamber.

"Now, Miss Percy," said Beda, "I will tell you
everything ; and you will learn wherefore I have
kept the secret until this moment. But first of
all let me give you the assurance that I — poor
humble girl though I be — have had the oppor-
tunity of testifjing my gratitude towards you : for
I have saved your life !"

" Is this possible, Beda ?" I exclaimed, trembling
not merely with the joyous sense of security, but
likewise at the thought of having escaped somo
dread and fearful peril. " Oh, my poor Beda ! I
who had mistrusted you for a moment ! But
come to my arras ! I told you there was no kind-
ness too great for me to display if your actions
justified your words 1"

Beda— who liad maintained the utmost firmness,
composure, and decision while witnessing the
various proceedings on board tho vessel— now wept
like a child : but tlioy were tsars of joy n-hieh she
shed as I folded her in my arms and embraced her
affectionately.

"Tell mo everything," I said, when she had
wiped away those tears from her chcok-s — and
now it was a luminous look of love she bent upoa
me.

" Grant mo your pationor. Miss," she said ; " for
the tale is eomenliat a long one, and I must bo
minute in its particulars. On the evening when I
first arrived in Bamsgate, you remember, Zvlisa,
that you sent me out to make a few purchases —
for you were to leave on the following mjrning.
As I was walking through one of the street?, I
met that young man whom you havo just seen on
board the vessel. Wz looked at each other with
the mutual conviction that we were no strangers.
It was he who remembered me first. ' Surely you
must be Beda?' ha said.— 'And you,' I imme-
diately replied, as the recognition flashed to my

223

ELLEN PEECr; OS, THE MEMOIES OF AS ACTEESS.

mind, ' are WiiJiain Lardner.' — Aad it was so. I
must tell you, Miss Percy, that when I was a little
girl, living with my parents in the caravan, Wil-
liam Lardner, who used to travel with his own
parents in a similar manner, was my playmate
when the two families happened to meet, which
was very ol'ten. I had not seen William since the
death of my own parents, until I met him that
day. He told me that his father and mother were
likewise dead : they had died about three years
ago ; and he, disgusted with the wandering life of
a gipsy, had embarked as a cabin boy on board a
mercLant-vesseL It further appeared that some
few weeks back, on leaving that ship, he happened
to fall in with Zarah's graudaiother, who at once
informed him that it was in her power to procure
him a much better situation — in short, a berth on
board a gentleman's yacht. He was introduced to
that gentleman : his testimonials were good ; and
he was at onco accepted. He was ordered to re-
pair to a seaport in France, where the yacht was
built; and he went on board. Thence after a
while the yacht sailed for England; and it had
arrived in Bamsgate harbour the very same day
on which I thus met him."

"The same day of our own arrival at Barns-
gate ?" I observed. '

" The very same," replied Beda. " William
Lardner spoke in high terms of his new situation ;
for he was well paid, well fed, and well treated ;
and he was proud likewise of frhe little vessel to
which he belonged. I casually inquired of him
who was the owner of the yacht ; and he answered,
'Captain St. Clair.' The reply struck me with
mingled surprise and alarm ; for I could not help
thinking that the presence of Captain St. Clair at
Ramsgate at the same time that you yourself.
Miss, were here, was something more than a mere
coincidence and that it might bode danger to you.
I did not choose to inspire you with apprehensions,
which after all might be utterly unfounded: — and
perhaps also," added Beda, with a slight blush
upon her cheeks, " I had my own little pride— and
I thought that if there were really any danger, it
should be my task to discover and defeat it ; fur it
was by those means only that I could testify the
deep gratitude that I owe you."

"Excellent Beda!" I exclaimed, affgctionately
caressing her cheek.

" On the following day you left Ramsgate," she
continued; "and I resolved to seek William Lard-
ner, and endeavour to ascertain through him what
Captain St. Clair's intentions might be — whether
he intended to remain any time in Ramsgate, or
whether the yacht was shortly to proceed else-
where. I fancied that if I wore the good clothes
you had given me, my visits to the yacht would
oppear strange ; and I therefore assumed the
poorest garb that I possessed. I soon found an
opportunity of conversing with William; and I
discovered that he was prepared to do anything for
me. When onco assured of his good feeling, his
sincerity, and his readiness, I took him into my
confidence : I told him that I was in the service of
a young lady who had done everything for me, and
to whom I was bound by every tie of gratitude.
You know not, Mias Percy, how strong are the
feelings of sympathy which exist amongst persons
of my race : we all seem as if in certain respects
we have an identity of interests; and the gipsy

will help another in purposes either of veiiijeanca
for injuries or of gratitude for bounties. Nor was
William Lardner deficient in such sympathies as
these, although he had renounced a gipsy life, and
on board his vessel strenuously denied his gipsy
origin. To be brief, he swore to assist me to the
utmost of his power ; and from all that I told him
he began to think that it was not perhaps alto-
gether from a friendly motive that Zarah's grand-
mother had recommended him to the service of
Edwin St. Clair. In the course of conversation I
learnt that St. Clair had on the preceding evening
visited his yacht in company with a lady who had
just arrived from London; and I bade William
discover her name, if possible — for I thought she
might be Lady Lilla Essendine. You know, Miss
Percy, that Zarah instructed mo to watch over
your interests, before you took me into your ser-
vice ; and she told me enough at the time to make
her think it probable that St. Clair and Lady Lilla
were combining their machinations against your
peace and security. William Lardner failed not
to act according to the desire that I expressed ;
and he succeeded in learning that the lady was in-
deed none other than Lilla Essendine."

" And does not Captain St. Clair live oa board
his yacht ?" I asked.

"No, Miss," replied Beda : "he has been stop-
ping at one hotel, while Lady Lilla has resided at
another. I have watched them, and I have seen
that Captain St. Clair has not visited her ladyship
at her hotel, but that they have met on board the
yacht. By dint of prying and listening, William
Lardner succeeded in ascertaining that your name
was frequently mentioned by St. Clair and Lady
Lilla when they were together : and her ladyship
on each occasion wrote a great deal upon pieces of
note-paper, but always as if she were copying
something from other letters which lay before her.
This was in the inner cabin of the vessel ; and it
was usually of an evening, after dusk, that Lady
Lilla Essendine joined Captain St. Clair there.
Still William's opportunities for gleaning any ii-
formation were so slight, and the few particulars
ho could pick up were so trivial, that they afforded
no clue to the ulterior aims of Captain St. Clair
and Lady Lilla Essendine. It was absolutely
necessary for me to do something in order to
penetrate farther into the mystery. I consulted
with William ; and we at length hit upon a plan,
which I determined to adopt, although it was
attended with no small risk, not merely of detec-
tion, but even to my life itself."

" Good heavens, Beda I" I exclaimed : " what
mean you ?"

" You shall learn. Miss Pjrcy," she replied.
" You remember those sofa-like divans in both
the cabins ? For the most part they are fitted up
80 as to form hollows or recesses to contain stores,
wine, and so forth. The project was nothing less
than that I should conceal myself in one of these
recesses ; and in order to prevent me from being
stifled in so cofSu-like a place, William, whose
duty it was to clean out the cabins, bored three or
four holes in a spot where it was least probable xhat
they would be observed. The evening before last
the plan was carried into execution ; and when
the dusk set in, I glided down into the cabin, un-
perceived by the other sailors. William quickly
followed me : I secretod myself in tho hiding-

EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF ATJ ACTEITSS.

229

pluct) — the board was placed over me like a coflia-
lid — and the cushion above it like a gay pall. But
I could breathe freely— and that was sufficient.
William retired ; and shortly afterwards Captain
St. Clair and Lady Lilla Esscndiue entered the
cabin. They at once began to speak in reference
to the machinations which they had in view. I
learnt from their conversation that some days be-
fore Mr. and Mrs. Norman left London, St. Clair
bad ascertained— I know not how— that their des-
tination was Eamsgate ; and he had of course sur-
mised that you were to be with them in this town
during their sojourn of a few weeks. Then it
was that St. Clair had immediately sent to Dun-
kirk to order his yacht to come to Samsgate, his
intention being to inveigle you on board by some
stratagem, or else to seize upon and convey you
thither by force at the first opportunity. But it
appeared that your immediate departure from
Ramsgate after your arrival, had to a certain ex-
tent baOled the conspirators; and it was equally
certain that they had been vainly endeavouring to
ascertain whither you were gone. But as Mr.
and Mrs. Norman continued here, they conjec-
tured that it was tolerably sure you would return,
for that you had most probably gone to pay a
flying visit elsewhere. Thus they discoursed to-
gether;—and then. Miss Percy, you may conceive
the horror which smote me when I discovered
that those wretches were plotting your death!
Tiiey spoke of the knowledge which you had of
certain secrets the revelation of which would
be most fatal to themselves— and which, though
you had hitherto kept silent, you were certain
sooner or later to reveal. Then they talked
of some sealed packet in which you had enclosed
a statement of those secrets— and which packet
you had deposited with some friend to whom you
had given specific instructions with regard to the
contingencies in which the packet was to be
opened. Lady Lilla Essendine said that she had
80 accurately studied your handwriting, from
certain letters which she had at different times
received from you at a period when you were on
amicable terms, that she felt assured she could
pen a note, in your name, which should suc-
ceed in deceiving even your most intimate
friends. The object of such a note, as far as I
could understand from their conversation, was to
be twofold "

"Ah! and I can also comprehend full well," I
exclaimed, " what those objects were ! But pro-
ceed, Beda : tell me the tale in your own way —
it would be better that I should hear it all from
your lips than fill up any portions with conjec-
tures of my own."

" Yes, Miss," continued the gipsy girl : " there
were evidently two distinct objects. The first was
to make it appear to Mr. and Mrs. Norman that
you had voluntarily withdrawn yourself from their
protection, and that you had gone away with
some one to whom your heart was given, so that
they should not institute any inquiries after you.
The second object was that the sealed packet might
shortly come iuto the possession of the con-
spirators "

" And thus the letter was so adroitly worded in
respect to the disposal of all my effects, wherever
they might be !"

" Yes, Miss," proceeded Beda : " and inasmuch

as Captain St, Clair and Lady Lilla Essendiuo bad
utterly failed to discover where you have been
staying for the last few days, they were compelled
so to word the billet that it should seem to allude
in a casual but natural way to your late residence ;
so that if it should happen that you left any of
your boxes or effects at any other place, they might
all be collected together by Mrs. Norman and re-
tained in readiness to be given up to a messenger
whom St. Clair purposed to send to receive them.
Ah! you know not, Miss Percy, how minutely
Captain St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendine dis-
cussed all the details of their plan, weighed all the
chances of success, and calculated all the risks.
But there was one thing which struck me ; and
this was that they spoke not to each other with
any degree of friendliness. Linked though they
evidently were in the horrible intimacy of crime,
there was yet no intimacy of the heart : but on
the contrary, it rather seemed as if they were
two enemies who were stifling their mutual ani-
mosities and setting aside their own reciprocal
hatreds, in the presence of one tremendous
exigency in which they had an identical interest."

" Yes, you are right, Beda !" I exclaimed : " it
is so ! But proceed, my dear girl : I am still full
of suspense."

" Ah ! the greater part of my narrative is now
told," responded Beda : " yet the most hideous part
is to come. I shudder dear Miss Percy, when I
think of it; and you yourself will be as much
astonished as horrified when you come to learn
how exquisitely refined was the ingenuity of that
dark villany which was medrtated against you.
The yacht, as I have already said, was purchased
in France ; and Captain St. Clair had very excel-
lent reasons for thus seeking a vessel in a foreign
dockyard — because, when purchased, there were
arrangements to be effected which he was careful
to veil in as much mystery as possible. All that
I am about to tell you. Miss Percy, I gathered
from the conversation which took place between
that wicked man and his equally infamous accom-
plice. It appears that he lavished gold amongst
the shipwrights at Dunkirk : he bound them over
to the strictest secrecy — he himself bore an as-
sumed name while thus dealing with them ; and he
gave them to understand that the vessel, under the
guise of a yacht, was in reality destined for contra-
band purposes on a most extensive scale. He re-
presented that in case of danger from the English
revenue-cruisers, while pursuing his smuggling
avocations, he was determined to scuttle the ship
rather than be captured; but at the same time ho
wished to have the means of achieving this object
without the knowledge of his crew— so that there
might be no chance of interference on their part.
Hence the arrangement which I am about to do-
scribe. So far as I could comprclicnd, a species of
water-tight trap-door was fashioned in the bottom
of the vessel, just beneath the larger cabin ; and
by means of a simple apparatus — merely that
turning iron handle — the trap-door could be
opened."

" Good heavens, Beda !" I exclaimed, starting
up in affright and consternation from my seat, as
I all in a moment comprehended the sinister mys-
stery of the proceedings which I had so lately wit-
nessed on board the yacht : " then your friend
William has sunk the vessel !"

230

ELLEN PEECT; OB, XHB MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESB.

" Precisely so, Miss," answered Beda, quietly
and composerlly.

" Oh ! but this was going too far 1" I ejaculated :
"it was a species of crime !"

" It was only a just retribution," rejoined Beda.
" Was no punishment to overtake St. Clair "

." But there is the punishment of the law," I
exclaimed ; " and this time it must be in»
yoked "

" No, Miss !" interrupted Beda ; " the punish-
ment of those conspirators is already inflicted by
the discomfiture of their schemes and the sinking
of their ship. I swore to Zarah that in whatso-
ever manner I might at any time be enabled to
save you from the persecutions of Edwin St. Clair,
I would faithfully abstain from bringing him
within the grasp of the law. What Zarah's
motives may have been in urging this injunction
upon me, I know not : suffice it to eay that I swore
to observe it. And now, Miss Percy, you under-
stand why I would tell you nothing of all these
matters when you pressed me on your arrival this
afternoon. I was determined that the vessel
should be sunk; and I knew full well that if I
unveiled my plan to you, your generous scruples
would militate against it. Now the work is done ;
and I rejoice — I am exultant !"

Beda's fine dark eyes glanced luminously as she
thus spoke; and I could not help saying, "After
all, perhaps, you were right : for if the horrible
surmise which is fl.oating in my mind "

"That surmise is the accurate one," interrupted
Beda emphatically ; " for it was nothing less than
your death that wrff contemplated— your murder
that was intended ! Ob, think you, dear Miss
Percy, that when I lay concealed in that coffin-
like recess, listening to the diabolical plans and
fiendish intentions of those two wretches, I had any
compunction in respect to the course which I
should afterwards pursue? Believe me, when I
obtained the hideous conviction that it was the
life of my own beloved mistress which was threat-
ened, I could cheerfully and gladly have handed
over those foul conspirators to the strong grasp of
the law, were it not for the solemn pledge I had
given to Zarah. But let me explain the intentions
of those wretches. You were to be either inveigled
by stratagem on board the yacht, or carried thither
by force when opportunity should serve. This
being accomplished, the yacht would have imme-
diately put out to sea ; and then, while you were
locked in the inner cabin, the villain St. Clair
would have executed his fatal project. The trap-
door would have been opened — in a short time the
crew would have found that the vessel was sink-
ing—the idea that a plank had been started would
have become general — prompt recourse would have
been had to the boats— and in the confusion none
of the men would have thought of you until it
was too late ! All would have been saved but
yourself, my beloved mistress ! — the tale would
have been spread of your accidental death — and
no shadow of suspicion would ever have at-
tached itself to St. Clair ! These were the fright-
ful plans — these the combinations of a fiend-like
ingenuity. But heaven bo thanked ! they are all
baffled !"

" And to you, dear Beda," I said, " am I in-
debted for my life ! But tell me whereforo when
I arrived here this afternoon, did you give me to

understand that my coming this day was most
opportune ?"

" Because to-day," replied Beda, " Captain St.
Clair is absent from Bamsgate; and he is not to
return until to-morrow. He went on board the
yacht early this morning; and having superin-
tended the laying-in of a quantity of wine, in the
lockers and recesses of the inner cabin, he locked
the door. Hence the necessity of breaking open
that door just now ; for I knew that the forged
letter had been left in the writing-case: and I
wished you to see it as a corroboration of all the
details of a story which, without such proof, I
feared might be too wildly wondrous in its infa-
mies and its horrors to be believed by you. More-
over, I was resolved that you should possess your-
self of this letter, in order that you might be
enabled to produce it in a court of justice, in case
Captain St. Clair should by an audacious step
endeavour to brand and punish us for the olFeDco
of sinking his vessel. I have only a few more
details to give," continued Beda. "You may
easily suppose. Miss Percy, that mine was no very
comfortable position — shut up in that recess for
more than an hour the night before last — not
daring to move lest the slightest sound should be-
tray my presence — horribly cramped — and at
length experiencing an increased difficulty in
breathing! Immense therefore was the relief I felt
when St. Clair and Lady Lilla Essendiue took
their departure. William Lardner was on the
watch; and he immediately came to rescue me
from my narrow prison-house. I can assure you
that for nearly half-an-hour I was unable to re-
cover the complete use of my limbs : it was a per-
fect martyrdom which I had been experiencing.
But if in one sense I was horrified at alt that I
had heard, in another sense I was rejoiced, inas-
much as I had fathomed the whole conspiracy — I
had penetrated the entire web of fiend-like wicked-
ness which had been so ingeniously woven to en-
mesh you. I explained everything to William
Lardner : he himself was horrified and appalled at
what ho heard, and at the idea of having enlisted
in the service of so infamous a master. He vowed
to assist me in whatsoever way I might point out.
St. Clair had so accurately described to Lady Lilla
Essendine the working of the mechanism prepared
for the scuttling of the vessel that I thoroughly
comprehended it; and before I separated from Wil-
liam Lardner that evening, we examined the iron
handle concealed within the bed of the sofa; and
he satisfied himself that he could turn it. This
morning, as I have already told you, St. Clair
visited the yacht ; and then he went away, inti-
mating that he should not return until to-morrow.
William assured me that in the evening his com-
rades would be certain to repair to the public-
house to have a carouse ; and it was settled be-
tween us that the opportunity should not be
allowed to pass. We were resolved that the yacht
should be sunk; and it was my purpose to obtain
possession of that forged letter in order to corro-
borate my tale when next I should see you. But
you came. Miss Percy — and I was rejoiced ! You
came— and I was determined that you should wit-
ness this step that it was requisite to take for the
sinking of the sinister vessel which had been in-
tended to serve as your coffin in the abysm of the
deep waters of the sea! It is done;— and now

ELLEN PEECT J OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

231

let St. Clair order his vessel to be raised if be
think fit ! At all events bo 'ivill see that bis dia-
bolical secret is discovered ; and he will not dare
recur to that scheme of satanic wickedness in
respect to yourself."

" Oh, Beda !" I exclaimed, " how can I ever re-
pay you for having thus saved my life ? Hence-
forth, my dear girl," I continued, again folding
her in my arms, " you shall not be my menial —
you shall be my companion — my friend !"

" No, Miss Percy," replied Beda, with firm-
ness of voice, though her lustrous eyes vibrated
with the emotions which filled her heart : " the
poor gipsy girl is no fitting companion for an
elegant lady like yourself. I am your friend —
devotedly and faithfully so: but my friendship
must be displayed from a respectful distance.
Nothing shall induce me to alter my position
totfards you. Do not therefore press it !"

" Well, Beda, it must be as you wish," I said
carressing her afiectionately. " But remember that
I consider myself under so deep an obligation to
you, that henceforth I shall love you as if you
were my sister. — But Ah!" I exclaimed as a
sudden thought struck me, " what of your young
friend William Lardner ? Is there no possibility
that be may become involved in any diffi-
culty on account of the occurrences of this even-
ing ?"

" How is it possible ?" asked Beda. "Who can
prove' that it was his hand which scuttled the
vessel? Will St. Clair voluntarily reveal the
mystery of that sinister mechanism, and accuse
William of having put it into requisition? Or
will ho not, when it is discovered — as discovered
it must be by those who take measures to raise the
vessel — will he not, I say, with a great show of
indignation proclaim his astonishment that a ship
evidently intended for all the contingencies of a
contraband trade, should have been sold to him as
a pleasure-yacht ? However, let us leave him to
extricate himself from this embarrassment as best
he may, William Lardner will no longer remain

in his service "

"And what can I do for that young man?" I
asked. " He would accept no reward : but yet I
must insist upon sending him through you some
t.'!stimonial of my gratitude : for without bis as-
sistance you would probably have failed to pene-
trate that which you have so appropriately denomi-
nated as the tangled web which was woven to
enmesh me."

" He will accept no reward, Miss !" replied
Beda. " He intends to seek another service on
board some vessel : and — and," added the gipsy
girl with a slight flushing of the cheeks, " he has
promised to write to me occasionally : but I told
him that I must first obtain your consent before
I would agree to receive his letters."

" You did well, Beda," I answered, compre-
hending that a feeling of attachment had sprung
up between herself and William Lardner. "He
is evidently a good young man : and although you
are both very young yet there can be no harm in
your occasionally receiving a letter in which he
may tell you how he is getting on. You may
inform him that such is the opinion which I have
espicssed; and you may add that if ever circum-
stances should transpire, through disappointment
or want of employment, to render the succour of

a friend needful, he must not hesitate to apply to
me."

Beda took my band and pressed it to her lips.
We continued to discourse a little longer upon the
topics of such strange, wild, and horrible interest
which for an hour had been engaging us ; and
Beda, as a thought struck her, asked, " How do
you think. Miss, that Captain St. Clair could have
discovered the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Norman
to come to Rimsgate ? Because, you see, he mtist
have known it at least a week or ten days before
they set off: or else he could not have sent to
Dunkirk to order his yacht to come to the harbour
of this town."

"The intention of Mr. and Mrs. Norman to
spend the vacation at Eamsgate, was no secret at
the theatre— it was generally known in the dra-
matic world — and, if I recollect rightly, it was
mentioned in a theatrical publication. Thus, you
see. Captain St. Clair might very easily have learnt
the rumour even by accident; while the slightest
inquiry would have made him acquainted with it."

I was now compelled to rejoin the Normans in
the drawing-room : but I knew not precisely what
explanations to give them. As the reader is
aware, I had all along abstained from entering
into particulars relative to the persecutions I had
endured on the part of St. Clair ; and if I were
now to describe the proceedings in which I had
been engaged with Beda, it would necessitate the
complete revelation of all the past. And then,
too, Mr. Norman would naturally insist, that, de-
spite Zarah's injunctions, I should invoke the
aid of the law against St. Clair : and I should be
forced to explain why, apart from those injunc-
tions, there was a motive which induced me to
observe certain terms with him: namely, his
knowledge of my parentage and of the fatal secret
which related to my father. Therefore, all things
considered, I was resolved to tell the Normans as
little as possible ; and indeed it was so easy to
satisfy them ; for these worthy people were totally
devoid of curiosity — they were sinple-minded—
and they reposed an illimitable confidence in me.
On rejoining them in the drawing-room, I gave
them to understand that Beda had fallen in with
some old acquaintances, and that hence her re-
peated absences from the house. I added that I
bad been with her to assure myself that she had
fallen into no disreputable company ; and that her
explanations had been delayed till the evening in
order that she might have an opportunity of show-
ing me who her friends were and satisfying me on
every point. The Normans were themselves
satisfied with all that I thus said ; and scarcely
had I finished those meagre explanations, when
the landlady of the house came rushing into the
room, to announce that a vessel had gone down
in the harbour.

Mr. Norman started up ; and looking at his
watch found that it was close upon eleven o'clock :
but as the night was gloriously fine, the heavens
being gemmed with stars, he resolved to walk
forth and view whatsoever was to be seen of the
catastrophe. Mrs. Norman agreed to accompany
him : I was about to refuse, when it suddetily
struck mo that I should perhaps do well to glean
upon the spot, if possible, whatsoever surmises and
conjectures I might there hear passing around.
We accordingly issued forth ; and the pier was

232

EX.LEN PEBCT; OB, THE MEM0IE8 OP AH ACTBES3.

soon reached. A great crowd was collected in the i
neighbourhood of the sunken vessel, which had '
evidently gone down quite straight— for the tall
tapering masts wore in an upright position. The
tide had begun to ebb ; and the water was only
just rippling over the deck — so that the bulwarks
were clearly visible above the surface. There was
a great chattering amongst the assembled specta-
tors : but I speedily found the universal impres-
sion to be that the yacht had started a plank— as
indeed there was no other feasible cause for con-
jecture. Several sailors belonging to the vessel
were present : I was enabled to recognise them by
the uniformity of their apparel, which precisely re-
sembled the dress worn by William Lardner. He
himself I likewise saw ; and that he recognised
me also, I was convinced — because he for a few
moments placed himself near the spot where the
Normans and I bad halted ; and getting into con-
versation with a byestander, he intimated that
there could be no doubt the yacht had started a
plank. I understood his meanirvg : it was in-
tended to convey to me the assurance that the
real truth was unsuspected.

After having remained for some little while
upon the pier, we returned to the lodgings ; and
when I sought my couch, sleep stole upon me
amidst the reflections which the incidents of that
day had naturally engendered. Wild fantastic
dreams began to haunt me. I fancied that I was
fast secured in the cabin of a vessel which was
sinking — that I heard the hurried trampling
of feet upon the deck overhead — the bustle of
affrighted seamen, mingling with the ominous
gush of waters in the hold beneath. Then me-
thought that the handsome countenance of St.
Clair was gazing in upon me through some open-
ing in that cabin, with the look of sinister mis-
chief that his face was wont at times to express :
and then it appeared as if that countenance gra-
dually changed, with the effect of a dissolving
Tiew, into the more beautifully feminine but not
less wicked-looking lineaments of Lady Lilla Es-
sendine. Again there was a change in the subject
of my dreams ; and now methought that I was
suddenly transported into a magnificently fur-
nished apartment, where a horrible spectacle met
my view. It was the faithful— Oh ! too hideously
faithful representation of the picture which Zarah
had described to me — the picture of that scene
which Beatrice had also described in such ap-
palling terms. Methought that I beheld the
corpse of Angelo Morano suspended to the ceiling
in the place where a chandelier ought to hang —
Beatrice, half dismayed and half frantic, kneeling
at its feet, and adjuring it to proclaim her inno-
cence from its inanimate lips— and the Count
himself leaning against the wall, with his arms
lolded across his chest, his natuiiUy sinister coun-
tenance shaded in the still deeper gloom of his
broad brimmed hat. Yes— there was the whole
scene, depicted to my vision with a vivid painful-
ness ; and though methought that I endeavoured
to close my eyes, yet I could not : an irresistible
fascination retained them open, and compelled me
to keep my regards riveted on that hideous phan-
tasmagoria. In short, I was under the influence
of a frightful nightmare— until all of a sudden I
awoke with a start, and with the consciousness
that a cry had just burst from my lips.

CHAPTER XLI.

MAUT AND HER MOTHER.

It was still quite dark; and for a few minutes 1
felt afraid. There was a vague terror in my
mind: but it was gradually dispelled by the exer-
cise of my reasoning powers. Still, after so hor-
rible a dream as this, it was only natural that its
influence should remain for some little while
behind, and that there should even be a doubt
whether it were a reality or only a vision.

I could not readily compose myself to sleep
again ; and I lay reflecting upon all that had
occurred during the memorable evening which
was succeeded by this night of hideous dreams.
I saw that I must not hope that Edwin St. Clair
or Lady Lilla Essendine would leave me unmo-
lested ; for that even if for a time they seemed to
be quiescent, it was only that during this leisure
they might prepare fresh machinations and mature
new plans. But there was something appalling in th»
thought that these wretches were seeking after my
life, and that I was so trammelled by circumstances
as to be unable to invoke the aid of the law. I
was really frightened as I thus meditated. Some
day, sooner or later, they might catch me un-
awares—I might stumble into some pitfall so care-
fully concealed and so treacherously designed as to
defy all precaution. What was I to do ? To
propose terms to such vile miscreants as these—
to promise to respect their secrets if they would
only leave me unmolested — or to confess the truth,
which was that though I suspected much, I had a
real knowledge of comparatively nothing. No ! —
I could not bring myself to the humiliating alter-
native of negotiating with such persons — even
though this negotiation might regard my vo-y
life ! In short I knew not how to act : but I
congratulated myself on possessing so faithful and
intelligent a friend as Beda — for I could not
think of her in the light of a menial.

Sleep again stole gradually upon my eyes ; and
now I slumbered on without the recurrence of ary
of those dreams which in the earlier part of tbe
night had horrified and appalled me. When I
awoke, the sun was shining in at the window : my
spirits were cheered and my heart was gladdened
by its rays. Having finished my toilet, I
descended to the break 'ast-parlour, where I found
Mr. Norman just preparing to sally out for his
morning's stroll before the repast was served up.
He asked me to accompany him; for his wifo
seldom went out so early. I not only longed to
court the refreshing breeze of the sea — but like-
wise to ascertain whether anything was being done
in respect to the sunken vessel. I therefore went
out with Mr. Norman.

We reached the harbour ; and we saw that there
was again a considerable crowd collected near the
spot where the yacht lay. It struck me even from
a distance that the masts seemed to be higher than
when I had observed them at about eleven o'clock
on the previous night ; and Mr. Norman himself
noticed the same fact — for he exclaimed, " I do
really believe they have managed to float her
again !"

Such was the truth : it was now high water
once more; and there floated the yacht, as buoyant

EiiLEx rr.ECT; ok, the mejioies of ax actkess.

2ci3

and lying as gracefully upon the water as when
I had first seen her. As we drew near the crowd
of assembled spectators, William Lardner passed
bj : and he flung a quick glance of recognition
upon me — a look which significantly conveyed the
intimation that something had occurred. He was
dressed as I had seen him on the preceding even-
ing: and I felt assured by his manner that he
wished to speak to me.

" If jou like to go and ascertain how they
floated the yacht," I said to Mr. Norman, " I will
wait for you here, a little apart from the crowd."

" Do so, Ellen," he replied : and he was speedily
lost to my view in the throng amidst which he
pushed his way.

I retreated to a little distance : and William
Lardner almost immediately accosted me. He-
spectfuUy touching his hat, he hastened to say in
a low tone, " Captain St. Clair returned to £am8<
gate at midnight. Immediately upon hearing that
No. 30.— Ellen Peecy.

the yacht was sunk, he came down to the pier ;
and I saw that he was terribly agitated. Ho
questioned me. I told him that I was the only
person on board at the time j and that finding the
vessel was filling, I could not do otherwise than
abandon it to its fate. He looked very hard at
me : but I maintained my countenance. The tide
was all out at about two o'clock this morning; and
the vessel lay nearly dry. He descended into the
cabin, where ho remained for a few minutes ; and
as a matter of course he turned the handle in such
a way as to close the trap. door. On coming up
from the cabin again, he took mo aside, and ac-
cused me of having broken open the door leading
to the inner cabin. I did not choose to give the
charge a flat denial : I assumed the indignant, and
I said that since I had become an object of sus-
picioD, I should no longer remain in his service.
He seemed bewildered how to act : but at length
he besought me to reveal everything that either I

234

EtLESr PEBCT; OB, THE MEMOIES OE AK ACTBES8.

myself had done or that I knew to have been done,
and ho vowed that he would pardon me. I turned
on my heel, and walked away. He mingled
amongst the men, and told them that a plug had
come out— that there was a trap-door in his cabin
by which he had discovered it— and that it was
now fitted with another. They evidently thought
the tale a stracge one : but they made no remark.
The Captain went away, having previously locked
the entrance to his cabins, so that no one should
penetrate into either. The men asked me what
he had been saying : I contented myself by reply-
ing that he had merely been questioning me rela-
tive to the accident. They all think there is some-
thing singular somewhere— but they know not
what. Sailors, you know, Miss, are apt to be
superstitious; and this sinking of the vessel for a
reason that is so clumsily explained, has produced
its effect upon those men. They were not there-
fore surprised when I intimated my intention of
leaving the vessel to-day. As the tide came in,
she floated agair', just as if no harm had ever be-
fallen her."

"And what are you now going to do?" I in-
quired ; " for you still wear the dreaa of a sailor
belonging to the yacht."

" The Captain came down again at about seven
o'clock this morning," replied William: "and
again did he question me. But I would of course
admit nothing ; and I told him plainly of my de-
termination to leave. He has given orders that
the yacht is to be got under weigh socn after ten
o'clock ; and he is going across to Dunkirk, where,
as I heard him tell the mate, he should have her
thoroughly looked to. As for myself, Miss, I am
now going up into the town to buy myself some
clothes : then I throw off these that I have
got on— and I shall breathe all the more freely
when out of the power of such a master."

At this moment Mr. Norman was returning ;
and William Lardner, with another respectful
touch of the hat, sped away — thus preventing me
from offering him the remuneration which I in-
tended, if possible, to force upon his acceptance.

" Well," said Mr. Norman, as I again took his
arm and we turned to retrace our steps homeward,
" I suppose that sailor has been telling you what
was the cause of the accident. It seems that
those lubberly French shipwrights who built the
vessel "

"Yes — I have heard it all," I interrupted him.
"I believe the yacht is to sail almost imme-
diately ?"

" So I am told," answered Mr. Norman. "But
what do you think ? It belongs to a gentleman
named St. Clair ; and from all I learnt it must be
that very same St. Clair who used to visit at our
house in London, but who suddenly left off calling,
I never could precisely ascertain why."

" Yes, it is that same Captain St. Clair," I re-
joined. " I have learnt thus much,"

Mr. Norman went on talking in reference to the
accident to the vessel : he little thought how much
I could have enlightened him upon the subject !
We reached the lodgings ; and after breakfast I
found an opportunity of being alone with Beda.
I told her all that I had heard, and bade her go
out to ascertain any other particulars which she
might be enabled to pick up ; for I intended to
delay my departure from Kamsgate until the

afternoon. She went out accordingly, and was
about an hour absent.

" I have seen. William Lardner," she said, " and
have learnt something more. He went to pur-
chase his clothes, and then returned to the vessel
to change them and fetch away what else belonged
to him. Captain St. Clair went on board shortly
after nine o'clock, and bade William follow him to
the cabin. You may suppose. Miss, in what a
state those beautiful little rooms must be after
being filled with water for some hours ! When
they were alone together. Captain St. Clair imme-
diately said to William, ' I know that jou are at
the bottom of all this ; it is useless for you to
deny it. Last night, between nine and ton o'clock,
two females, coming from the direction of the
yacht, met the lady whom you have seen on board
with me ; and one of them whispered to her some-
thing which proved that there has been treachery
at work. Besides,' added Captain St. Clair, 'there
is a letter missing from the writing-case in the
inner cabin ; and this door has been forced open.'
Then William Lardner fixed bis eyes upon St.
Clair, and said to hioq, ' You had better not ask
me, sir, any more upon the subject. If you think
I am in your power you had bstter try it : give
me into custody ; and we shall see who will come
best off.'— Captain St. Clair produced a handful
of gold and bank-notes : bi^t William Lardner
turned upon his heel, hastened up the stairs, and a
few minutes afterwards left the yacht. — I have
bidden him farewell," added Beda, in a voice that
was now slightly, tremulous; "he is going else-
where to look for another ship ; but I told him
that he might write to me occasionally."

It was tolerably evident that Lady Lilla Essen-
dine had not on the previous evening suspected
that I was one of the " two females" to whom St.
Clair had alluded in his conversation with William
Lardner. I could fancy how bewildered and dis-
mayed the two conspirators must be at finding
that their plan was so completely bafflod — and
how infi.nite must be their wonderment and sus-
pense in respect to the mode by which all their
treacherous designs had become known.

" There 1" esclaimed Beda, who had happened
to glance forth from the window, which was open
and commanded a full view of the harbour :
" the yacht is sailing:."

And it was so. Her white sails were spread :
but they had not as yet fully caught the breeze ;
she was therefore moving slowly yet gracefully
out of the basin, crowds being still coll.cted on
the piers to behold her.

I went out into the town to purchase some
little presents as a token of my gratitude for
Beda ; and at two o'clock I took my departure by
tlie coach for Dover. We had to pass through
Deal ; and the vehicle stopped to take up two
ladies, who were walking on the Walmer Road, a
little beyond the town. Hitherto I had been the
sold occupant of the interior of the coach ; and
I wos aroused from my reflections to make room
for the new-cotners. To my surprise one of the
ladies was none other than Mary Glentworth; and
she gave vent to an ejaculation of joy on beholding
me. I shook hands warmly with her ; and it was
with equal cordiality that she returned the pres-
sure.

" Allow me "to introduce you to my dear

ELLEN PKECT; OR, THE :,ii;AI0IK3 OF AN ACTEESS.

235

mo'.her," she saicl, with nil that artlessness wbicli
was natural to her. " This, mamma," she added,
turning to her companion, " is the young lady of
whom I spoke to you and who promised to Tisit
me again."

It was ill the eiFusion of my friendly feelings,
my compassion and my sympathy for Miss Glent-
Vtorth, that I had obeyed a natural impulse by
proffering my hand so cordially. But now that
she presented me to her mother, all that I heard
from Mrs. Oldcastle rushed to my memory ; and it
was only a cold distant bow that I bestowed upon
Mrs. Glcntworth. Her daughter did not bow.
ever observe my frigidity of look and manner — for
she was at the instant settling herself in her
place within the narrow compass of that most
limited of all conveyances — the interior of a
country branch-coach. Mrs. Glentworfch gave a
slight and scarcely perceptible inclination of the
head : but her countenance denoted not the least
confusion. On the conirary, there was a calm
lady -like self-possession about her, which struck
me as being either indicative of conscious inno ■
cence, or els-^ of the consummate art of dissimu-
lation. She was about thirty-eight or forty years
of age, — retaining the traces of beauty of no com-
mon order, but which had evidently been marred
by either ill health or care— methought by both
combined. She was rather tall of stature, and
well shaped. Her attire was plain, yet displaying
the most perfect good taste : it was lady-like and
genteel, without pretension. Altogether Mrs.
Glentworth was a person in whom, for her own
sake as well as for her daughter's, I could have
become interested, were it not for the narrative
which I had received from the lips of Mrs. Old-
castle.

" You promised to pay me another visit," said
Miss Glentworth ; *•' and it was a week ago that
I first had the pleasure of seeing you."

" I was in the first instance compelled," I an-
swered, " to devote myself to the friends whom I
wect to visit at Eiver House ; and yesterday I
proceeded to Eamsgate to see some other friends
who are staying there."

" You therefore perceive, my dear Mary," said
Mrs. Glentworth, mildly and yet with a certain
accent of decisiveness, " that this young lady's
time has been completely occupied ; and doubtless
it will continue so during her stay at River
House."

I perfectly well comprehended that this speech
was purposed to silence Mary Gleutworth's im-
plied invitation for me to visit her : but the art-
less girl herself did not take it iu the same light;
for she evidently neither knew nor suspected the
existence of any reason wherefore I should not
■visit her, or why an intimacy should not spring
up between us. She therefore went on speaking
in that same strain which her mother had en-
deavoured to interrupt— till I myself gave the
conversation a turn ; and Mary reverted not to
the first topic during the remainder of the dis-
tance of some seven or eight miles which had to
be accomplished before Dover was reached. Mrs.
Glentworth remained silent almost the whole
way : but when she occasionally threw in a word,
it was addressed to her daughter and not to me.
Mary herself sustained the discourse ; and I
treated her with as much kindness of manner as

I Could possibly display; for I not merely coiniuise-
rated her, but I could not help entertaining a
sentiment of friendship for the poor girl who was
made to suffer, though unconsciously, on her
mother's account.

When Dover was reached, and the coach
stopped at its office, Mary asked mo if I iu-
tended to walk to Eiver House ? — adding, bsfore
I could answer the question, " For if so, I shall
enjoy the pleasure of your company some little
time longer."

"We cannot immediately set out for the Cot-
tage, my dear Mary," said Mia. Glentworth. " I
have some shopping to do— several purchases to
make— and therefore we will not interfere with
this young lady's arrangements."

Mary for a moment looked disappointed ; and
taking my hand, she said, " But you will come
and see me again — will you not .^"

" Yes," I answered, — " most assuredly :" for
how could I possibly wound the feelings or distress
the heart of that amiable girl ?

It seemed to me that for an instant Mrs. Glent-
worth bent upon me a half-mournful look of gra-
titude: but I was not altogether sure— for the next
moment she bowed coldly and walked away with
her daughter.

As I was proceeding through the streets, think-
ing of my interview with the Glentworths, nud
wondering hoW I could possibly keep my promise
to revisit Mary, I happened to glance through the
window of a large print-shop which I was pass-
ing ; and there I was struck by beholding a por-
trait of myself. It was a lithographic print, and
was very well executed,— although I had not sat
to have my likeness taken for the original of any
such picture. There were several other persona
looking in at the shop-window ; and I therefore
did not choose to tarry upon the spot : but as I
pursued my way, I thought to myself that Mary
Glentworth would now most probably soon dis-
cover who I was ; for she would presently have to
pass by that very same shop on her way home-
ward.

I continued my walk ; and the Cottage where
the Glentworths dwelt was already in sight, when
a stage-coach, coming from the opposite direction
— namely, from C:interbury or London— suddenly
pulled up in front of the picturesque little habita-
tion. I saw a gentleman alight from the interior ;
a small carpet bag was handed to him : he entered
the garden— and the coach drove on. As I passed
the Cottage, I caught a glimpse of the gentleman
through one of the parlour-windows : but it was
so transient and casual as to prevent me from
being enabled to see what ho was like — or whether
old or young. But I recollected that Mrs. Old-
castle had told mo how the gentleman from whose
purse Mrs. Glentworth derived her income, occa-
sionally visited at the Cottage ; and I coulJ not
help agreeing in my own mind with the observa-
tion which the old lady had made at the time, to
the effect that it was an indelicate proceeding.
The incident therefore decided mo that I would
not visit Mary Glentworth : but I was grieved
and even distressed at the necessity of arriving at
such a conclusion.

I reached Eiver House; and found that Juliet
was progressing as favourably as could be desired
— while the babe gave equal promise of healthful-

ness. I was euabled to assure Juliet that bcr
parents were quite well, and that they were enjoy-
ing themselves at Ramsgate as much as was pos-
sible considering the circumstances which com-
pelled them to remain separate from their much-
loved daughter.

It was in the evening of the following day that
I was rambling out by myself through the adjacent
fields, — when, as I was drawing near a stile, I per-
ceived Mary Q-lentworth hastening to me from the
opposite direction. Towards her, now that we
were alone together, I was resolved to maintain
that flir of friendliness which I had hitherto worn.
We both reached the stile at the same instant :
but instead of immediately accepting my hand, she
gazed upon mo with a half earnest, half joyous
expression of countenance ; and then she suddenly
exclaimed, "Yes— it must be ! You yourself are
Miss Irafford !"

I smiled, as she now took my hand, which she
pressed with effusion ; and she cried, " Oh, why
did you not tell me so at first ? You know not
what pleasure you would have afforded me ! And
I who spoke to jou about yourself on that very
first occasion when we met!"

" I can assure you, my dear Miss Grlentworth,"
I answered, " I had no particular reason for making
a mystery of the fact — unless it were that being
sated with popularity for a season, I wished to
remain as secluded as possible during my vacation
at Eiver House."

" Ob, I saw your portrait in a print-shop yester-
day at Dover!" exclaimed Mary; "and you may
conceive my astonishment when I recognised it.
I purchased it; and I do believe that when I got
home I should have done nothing but contemplate
it for all the remainder of the day, only that we
found some one had arrived to whom I was bound
to devote all my attention !"

" Indeed," I said, not knowing precisely what
remark to make.

" Yes— I found my dear uncle waiting for us at
the Cottage," proceeded Mary Olentworth ; " and
whenever he comes to visit us — which he does
every now and then for a day or two at a time —
he is always so kind and good to me, that I am
only too happy to show how much I love him iu
return. He came by the coach yesterday ; and he
will not go away until to-morrow. I should have
been so pleased to tell him that I had accidentally
formed your acquaintance: but my mother bade
me say nothing upon the subject — for it seems to
be my uncle's wish, as well as her own inclina-
tion, that we should live as secluded as we are
doing."

"Your uncle, then, I presume, lives at some
distance ?" I observed, rather by way of saying
something than because I had any curiosity upon
the point : for after what Mrs. Oldcastle had told
me, I more than fancied that it was really no uncle
at all— but perhaps even a much nearer relative,
though Mary might suspect it not.

"Oh! Mr. Glentworth lives in London," was
her prompt and ingenuous answer. " He is the
brother of my poor father, who has long been
dead. Indeed he died in my infa'ncy — and there-
fore I have not the slightest recollection of him."

"After all," I thought to myself, " what if the
whole tale, as Mary has been taught it, and as she
is now telling it to me, — what if it be true ? And

what if some family reasons, unknown to the
world iu genera), have doomed Mrs. Glentworth
to her present existence of seclusion ?"

Such was the charitable construction which I
endeavoured to put upon the matter ; yet I could
not persuade myself that it was so ; for it fell to
the ground in the presence of that part of Mrs.
Oldcastle's narrative which declared that Mrs.
Glentworth's real character had been thoroughly
unmasked some years back at Hastings.

" Oh, Miss Trafi'ord I" continued Mary Glent-
worth, " I do hope that I shall have the pleasure
of at least an hour's conversation with you some
day before you leave this part of the country : for
I have already confessed to you my admiration for
those beautiful creations of Shakspere by the per-
sonification of which you have earned so much
fame, I cannot remain here now any longer — I
have merely been to take something to a poor
woman who lives in yonder hut — and I must
return home as speedily as possible."

" We shall see each other again, my dear Miss
Glentworth," I answered, — thus evading the ne-
cessity of giving any definite reply in respect to
my promised visit.

We shook hands and separated,— Mary hasten-
ing in one direction, while I proceeded in the
other. I continued my walk, pondering all she
had said in respect to her alleged uncle, and
hoping for the young lady's sake that it was con-
sistent with truth, — when I reached the hut which
had been the object of her visit. Hsmembering
that she had spoken of some poor woman who
dwelt there, I felt inclined to ascertain whether
any little additional charity which I might be able
to afford, would prove of any service ; and I
entered accordingly. In that cottage I heard a
tale which proved how Mary Glentworth and her
mother did much good in secret— privately and
without ostentation ; for I found that this was by
no means an isolated case in which poverty had
been succoured and sickness ministered unto by
those ladies. I gave something from my own
purse to the poor dwellers in that cottage ; and I
began slowly to retrace my way homeward, sorrow-
fully reflecting on the evil which I had heard from
Mrs. Oldcastle in respect to Mrs. Glentworth, and
sincerely hoping that despite all circumstantial
evidence it might be in reality naught but the
echo of whispered calumny.

I was already in the neighbourhood of Eiver
House, when I observed Mrs. Glentworth herself
approaching through the same field which I was
traversing. It at first struck me that she was
perhaps on her way to visit the same cottage
where I had so recently been : but then me-
thought that she would scarcely follow so closely
in the steps of her daughtei", as there was uo
pressing necessity for such a double act of charity
at the cottage itself, and moreover as she bad a
visitor at her own home. In a few minutes we
met; and instead of passing me by, as I had ex-
pected, Mrs. Glentworth stopped, — saying, " Will
you permit me, Miss Trafi'ord, to have a few words
with you ?"

I bowed, and stood still.

" You saw some one arrive at my dwelling yes-
terday," she continued ; " and you doubtless recog-
nised him ? May I hope that with that delicacy
of feeling for which the world so justly gives you

credit, you bavo abstained froca naming hitu to
your friends at liiver House ?"

" I can assure you, Mrs. Glentworth," I an-
swered, astonished at tbe speech which was thus
addressed to me, " that I did not recognise the
gentleman who called at your dwelling. I saw

bim alight from the coach "

" And you did not recognise him ?" exclaimed
Mrs. Glentworth with a sudden lighting-up of the
countenance, as if she experienced an indescribable
relief. "Yet he saw you — he knew you — it even
struck him that as you passed the cottage, you

glanced at tbe windows "

" I may have done so, Mrs. Glentworth," I re-
sponded ; " but it was through no feeling of
curiosity. As for the gentleman, whoever he may
be, I repeat my assurance that I recognised him
not."

" My daughter just now told mo that you were
walking in this direction," resumed Mrs. Glent-
worth ; " and I resolved to come forth in the hope
of meeting you. I am glad that I have done so.
And now permit me, Miss Trafford, to express my
warmest gratitude for the kind manner in which
you have dealt with my daughter. I understood
full well all that must have been passing in your
mind when we were fellow-travellers yesterday ;
and believe me, I appreciated the mingled gene-
rosity and delicacy with which you answered the
poor girl's repeated invitations that you would
renew your visit."

" I had conceived a friendship for Miss Glent'
worth," I replied: "she is amiable and open-
hearted "

" She is the best and most affectionate of
daughters !" ejaculated Mrs. Glentworth ; and
then the tears started from her eyes. " Miss
Trafford," she hastily added, " your kindness to-
wards her is something that I never can forget !"
With these words she abruptly turned away ;
and retracing her ateps across the deid, was soon
concealed from my view by a little copse which
she had to traverse in order to reach her own
home. She left me full of astonishment. Who
could the person be that was now staying at
her house, passing as her brother-in-law and as
Mary's uncle ? — wherefore should there have been
so much apprehension lest I had recognised him

" Do you mean Miss Glentworth ?" I aaked,
horrified by the aanouncement which had juat
smitten my ear.

"Yes! for God's sake come!" repeated the
maid-servant : and when she saw that I hesitated
not another instant to open the gate, she darted
away again in the direction of the Cottage, evi-
dently to announce that her mission had been suc-
cessful and that I was on my way thither.

I sped with all possible haste — every other con-
sideration being absorbed ia the sense of a para-
mount Christian duty which I was called upon to
fulfil. In a very few minutes I reached the Cot-
tage. The maid-servant met me on the threshold
of the front-door, which stood open ; and to the
hurried question which I put, I received the
answer that Mrs. Glentworth yet lived, but that
her distracted daughter thought that she was
dying.

" And has no medical man been sent for ?" I
anxiously inquired.

" Yes ! Mr. Glentworth has gone for one," was
the servant's response. " But come, Miss ! This
way !"

She led me up the staircase ; and I was shown
into a bed-chamber where Mrs. Glentworth was
lying half undressed upon the bed and Mary was
giving way to piteous lamentations. I saw at
once that her mother was in a state of uncon-
sciousness; but that she still lived was evident
from the feeble yet painful gaspings which she
made for breath. The instant Mary beheld me,
she flew towards me, exclaiming in a half frenzied
voice, " Oh, Miss Trafford ! save my dear mother !"
I perceived that everything had been done
which unskilled human aid could possibly do,
while awaiting medical assistance. Mrs. Glent-
worth's apparel had been loosened— some taken
off: her head was propped up with pillows— there
was an odour of vinegar in the room — and bottles
of volatile essences stood upon a side-table. I was
just about to speak some soothing words to Miss
Glentworth, when the sounds of men's footsteps
hastily ascending the staircase reached our ears ;
and Mary exclaimed, " Heaven be thanked ! my
uncle and the surgeon !"

The next instant two gentlemen made their ap-
pearance : one was the medical man who had been

and revealed his name ? I was bewildered what | hastily fetched — and who, I should observe, was

to think :— but in respect to Mrs. Glentworth her
self, I feared, from what had just taken place
between us, that there was more reason than ever
to believe tbe tale which I had heard concerning
her.

I returned to Biver House ; and after tea, as
tbe evening was most deliciously serene, I walked
in the gardens attached to the dnrelling. It was
about nine o'clock that I happened to be standing
at the front gate — contemplating the high bold
outlines of Dover Castle, which was plainly visible
from that spot— when a young female, evidently
a servant-maid, rushed towards me, exclaiming,
"Oh ! are you Miss Trafford ?"

" I am," was my answer. "But good heavens !
who are you ? what has happened ? wherefore this
wildness of your looks i"

" Pray come to the Cottage ! for God's sake
come !" cried the girl, who seemed to be half fren-
zied. "My mistress is dying ! — it is young Miss
who has sent me ■"

not the same that had attended upon Juliet : but
the other — what words can depict my astonish-
ment on recognising the Duke of Ardleigh !

And this recognition was mutual. There was a
momentary start— a transitory confusion on the
part of his Grace j and then quickly accosting me,
he said in the lowest possible whisper that could
be audible to my ear alone, "Xame me not!—
name me not. Miss Trafford, I beseech you !"

I flung upon him a glance which significantly
implied that his secret was sacred with me; and
this little incident passed unperceived by the
others present — for the surgeon was already by
the bed-side of Mrs. Glentworth, while Mary and
the maidservant were gazing with anxiety upon
the countenance of him whose first look or word
might put an end to all suspense by declaring that
there was hope or that there was none !

I now advanced towards the couch, as did the
Duke of Ardleigh also; and the next moment
Mary Glentworth sank with a convulsing sob

ELLEN FEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTHESS.

upon her knees; for sbo had gathered from the
countenance of the medical man that there was
indeed no hope.

" Take the young lady away," said the surgeon,
turning to the Da!io of Ardleigh and speaking in
a low whisper : " in a few minutes her mother
will bs no more! No human aid can save her I"

Notwithstanding that these words were cau-
tiously uttered in the lowest possible whisper, they
nevertheless caught the ears of the unfortunate
girl whom they so deeply regarded ; and then an
anguishing, agonizing scene took place. She
threw herself upon the unconscious form of her
mother, beseeching that beloved parent to open
her eyes — to look upon her, if only for an instant
— to speak a word, if only a single one — to live
for the sake of that daughter who so deeply and
devotedly loved her ! The tears were raining
down my cheeks : the Duke was powerfully
affected : the young maid-servant wept bitterly ; the
surgeon, though doubtless well accustomed to look
upon death-bed scenes, was himself much moved.
At length there was a wild shriek which came
pealing from Mary's lips — a shriek so piercing
that it seemed sufficient to rend the brain of each
who heard it, and to rive the very walls asunder.
That shriek was uttered at the instant the unfor-
tunate girl was smitten with the conviction that
all was over and that her parent was no more.
Then pressing her hands in wildest frenzy to her
brows, she would have fallen back had not I sus-
tained her in my arms.

She had fainted; and we bore her to another
chamber. It was a long time ere she recovered —
and then it was again a long time ere she could
believe that it was otherwise than a frightful
dream through which she had been passing. But
when she could no longer shut out from herself
the conviction of the awful truth, she gave way to
the frenzied wildness of her grief : she would have
flown to the death-chamber, had not the maid-
servant and myself restrained her. When that
paroxysm of the ineifable agony of her mind was
passed, the poor girl sank into the torpor of blank
despair— that condition of mind which is so close
upon apathy itself that it must have been wisely
intended by heaven as a means to save the racked
and over- wrought brain from utter madness.

I was determined not to leave !Mary Glentworth
that night. I penned a hasty note to Mrs. Old-
castle, to state what had occurred, and wherefore I
absented rjjself from River House; and I sent
the billet by the mai Isorvant.

The surgeon took his departure : the Duke of
Ardleigh came up to the chamber, where I had
now remained alone with Mary Glentworth ; and
bending over her, as she lay upon the couch, he
said with a deeper feeling than I could have
thought him capable of, " My dearest girl, hence-
forth you shall find a father in me !"

Mary only raised her eyes vacantly towards his
countenance; and I motioned his lordship to with-
draw— for I saw that her mind was now so utterly
exhausted and that her physical strength was
likewise so prostrated, it was probable she would
sink into sleep— and I hoped that such would be
the case. My expectations were fulfilled — my
wish was gratified : her eyes gradually closed—
and she slumbered.
The maid-servant returned : I left Miss Glent-

I worth in the care of the young woman ; and I
descended to the parlour — for I had seen by the
Duke's manner, when he came up to the bed-
room, that he wished to speak to me. Oa enter-
ing the parlour I found him pacing to and fro in
an agitated manner ; and so absorbed was he in
his thoughts, that he did not immediately perceive
me. I closed the door; and the sound which it
made when shutting attracted his attention. He
advanced towards me ; and seizing my hand,
shook it warmly,— saying, " You have acted a
generous part towards me, and a kind one to-
wards poor Mary."

I had not forgotten how the Duke of Ardleigh
had dared some little while back to make
me a particular overture, through the medium
of Mr. Peaseblossom ; and how that proceeding
on his part had led to unpleasant consequences
with myself, his son, and the Duchess. I therefore
could entertain but little respect or friendship for
the Duke of Ardleigh : yet this was not an occa-
sion to exhibit any hostile feeling towards him, nor
even to treat him with unnecessary coldness ; for by
the incidents of the evening I had become almost
completely convinced that he had the best possible
reason for assuring Mary that she should thence-
forth find a father in him.

" And you have not mentioned, Miss Traflford,
to poor Mary that you know who I am— that I
am other than she thinks me P"

" No, my lord," I responded. " By a look I
gave your Grace to understand at the very outset,
that your secret was safe with me. But if my
surmise be correct, my lord, there ought no longer
to be any mystery "

" What ! Miss Trafford !" he exclaimed : " re-
veal to Mary the story of her mother's shame —
suffer her to learn that I whom she regards as her
uncle, am indeed "

He stopped short ; and I added impressively,
" Her own father !"

"Yes — it is so," rejoined the Duke : and then
he resumed his agitated walk to and fro in the
parlour.

" iirs. Glentworth's illness was very sudden,
my lord?" I said. " I met the poor deceased lady
only a couple of hours before I was summoned
hither to behold her stretched upon the bed of
death."

" Yes it was very sudden," answered the Duke,
again stopping short. " She told me that she met
you — indeed she went out on purpose. We
cherished the belief that if you had recognised me
yesterday when I alighted from the coach, your
delicacy of feeling and kindness of heart would
have prompted you to keep the secret ; but still
we were not certain — we wished to have our doubts
cleared up — and therefore she went forth to seek
you. She came back, tranquillized in her mind:
we were seated here together, in this very room— ^
and Mary was with us — when all of a sudden the
poor creature gave a start, raised her hand to her
head, murmured something incoherently, and fell
senseless upon the floor. I rushed off to procure
medical attendance "

" It was doubtless the bursting of a blood-
vessel in some vital part," I mournfully observed.
"But, my lord, you will soon have to reflect upon
the course which you must pursue in respect to
your daughter "

ELLEir PEECT; OS, THE MEHOIHS OP AW ACTEESS.

a39

" Yes, yes — it is that which is bewildering me !"
cried the Duke. " I would not for tho world that
the secret should be known to my wife — to my
children ! I will provide handsomely for Alary :
but where am I to place her, innocent and inex-
perienced as she is ! You see, she knows nothing
of the world ! Her artlessness, her innocence, her
too confiding generosity, would all render her the
more easy prey to tho wiles of the temptsr. What
can bo dor.e ? For heaven's sake advise me, Miss
Trafiord !"

I reflected for a few minutes. I knew that
Mrs. Oldcnstlo possessed a good heart amidst all
Ler eccentricities ; and I thought it not altogether
improbable that she might afford the orphan Miss
Glecto'orth a home, at least for a while, until some
other arrangement could be made for her advan-
tage. I suggested this to the Duke, — proposing,
if he thought fit, to speak to Mrs. Oldcastle on tho
subject.

"Do anything you will. Miss Trafford!" he
said : " I really seem to have lost all power of re-
flection ! Altogether I am terribly embiirrassed.
The Duchess is to meet me at Dover to-morrow :
wo are going together on the Continent. She
fancies that I am at Hastings, where we have
friends residing. She may even have already
arrived at Dover for aught that I know— though I
have not seen her travelling-carriage pass this
way."

"But it is impossible, my lord," I exclaimed,
" that you can leave poor Mary so soon, and in
such circumstances. There's the funeral to super-
intend. I myself will cheerfully do anything to
relieve Mary of anxiety and trouble : but there are
certain things which your G-race only can look
after. And suppose too that Mrs. Oldcastle
should refuse the favour which I purpose to seek
at her hands "

" Good heavens ! I am bewildered !" said the
Duke : and bis agitated walk was resumed. " If
this were to get to the ears of the Duchess— if she
were to learn that even in the first years of our
marriage I had contracted this intimacy "

" Hark, my lord ! — what is that ?" I suddenly
ejaculated, as strange alarming sounds broke upon
my ears.

It seemed as if some equipage— a stage-coach,
a post-chaise, or travelling-carriage, it was impos-
sible to conjecture which — had suddenly come to a
full stop, accompanied by a crash as if it were
breaking down, and this being followed by the
plunging of horses, the confused cries of men, and
the screams of women. I rushed out of the house,
closely followed by the Duke. It was now eleven
o'clock at night : but the heavens were covered
with stars— the weather was beautiful — and it was
80 light that all objects were clearly discernible.
We sped to the gate ; and just at that very in-
stant two females were approaching it, — they
evidently having alighted from an equipage which
had broken down at a distance of about fifty yards.
I cuuld distinguish the postilions unharnessing
their four horses; and the glare of the lamps
showed me likewise a couple of domestics in livery
— but what livery it was I did not recognise. As
the two females drew near, I saw that one was a
lady, while the other had the appearance of being
her maid ; and they were both coming towards
the gate.

"Good heavens!" suidenly murnjured the
Duke with a groan: "the Duchess herself!"

And the Duchess of Ardleigh it assuredly was.
The Duke stood petrified with terro"- and bewil-
derment; and I myself was seized witli con-
fusion and excitement — for I foresaw a scene of
some description or another. Indeed, unless the
whole truth were told, I perceived at a glance that
I myself might become the object of the most in-
jurious suspicions on being thus discovered with
the Duke, at that time of niglit, at an isolated
cottage.

"Whnt! Miss Trafford.^ is it possible .' —yoj»
here!" cried the Duchess, at first in tones of joy-
ous amazement : but the next instant suddenly
descrying her ducal husband, she drew herself up
with disdainful hauteur to her full height, saying,
in accents of cold contemptuous scorn, " And it is
thus that the celebrated Miss Trafford passes as 8
virtuous character before the world ?"

" Madam," I responded indignantly, " Miss
Trnfford's reputation is beyond suspicion. His
Grace, jour husband, must explain everything."

The Duchess looked astonislied at this answer
on my part: and she turned tovrards the Dako,
saying, "Perhaps you will explain, my lord, that
which Miss Trafford does not on her part choose
to cle.ir up."

" My God, what can I say ?" murmured the be-
wildered Duke of Ardleigh. "But we cannot
talk here!— don't let me seen by the other do-
mestics I"

" As you are without your hat, my lord," said
the Duchess, " I presume that you must bo tem-
porarily residing in this house, to which I was
coming for shelter. Perhaps it will not be indis-
creet," she added ironically, " if I, as your wife,
entered thither with you."

Again her looks were bent full of suspicion on
my countenance ; and I felt my cheeks burning
with the blush of indignation that rose up to
them, as I turned to the Duke, saving, "My lord,
all this must be cleared up — everything must be
told ! I neither can nor will suffer on your ac-
count! Madam," I aided, turning to the Duchess
and speaking in a solemn voice, " there is death in
that house— and this is the reason that I am tem-
porarily there. Enter— but recollect it is the place
of affliction and of mourning."

" The house of death ?" ejaculated the Duchess
of Ardleigh: " what can you possibly mean ?"

"This, as well as everything else," I replied,
"must be explained by his lordship to your
Grace."

The Duchess reflected for a few moments : with
all her self-possession and strength of mind she
might well be bewildered by this scene that was
taking place. She however seemed to think that
of the explanations which she was presently to
receive, there need be no unnecessary witness; and
she suddenly said to her maid, " Go and tell the
servants that they are to be sure to stop the other
carriage when it comes up. Remain you there
with them. I dare say I shall not be long here.
And ah ! by the bye, whatsoever you may have
just heard, is something that is not to be talked
about "

"I understand, my lady," answered the abigail:
and she turned away towards tho spot where the
misfortune had happened to the equipage.

2J0

ELLEN PEECTJ OR, THE MEMOIK3 OP A» ACTRESS.

CHAPTER XLir.

jpliet's I^'FA^'T.

Tfe Duchess of Ardleigh new passed through the
parden-entrance, — I myself immediately following
her; for the Duke, doubtless feeling like a doomed
man, lagged ia the rear. We threaded the front
garden in silence : we entered the cottage ; and
as the parlour door stood open, the Duchess at
once turned into that room. She sat down —
glanced around her— and said in accents where a
slight irony appeared, "Truly this is a pretty
little place — a very pretty little place ; and if it
were fitted up under your lordship's supervision,
you hare shown more taste in this respect than
ever to my knowledge you displayed before."

The Duke looked exceedingly miserable and
Tcry much confused. With his ignoble counte-
nance, his insignificant form, and his apparel plain
almost to meanness, it was scarcely possible to
believe that he was indeed the husband of the su-
perb, handsome-looking, and even brilliant lady
who had placed herself upon the sofa with as much
ease of manner as if the house belonged to her,
and yet with a certain air of dignity, as if she
were about to sit in judgment over the delinquent
who was fidgetting about at a little distance. I sat
down with an air of calm self-possession ; for now
that matters had reached this crisis, in which my
own reputation was at stake, I was determined
that everything should be told. The reader may
believe me when I proclaim the assurance that I
was not inspired by the slightest sentiment of ma-
lignity towards the Duke himself: on the contrary,
I rather pitied him : but it was absolutely neces-
sary that my good name should be spared from the
breath of suspicion; and moreover, I was not
without the hope that when the Duchess came to
learn everything she might possibly be induced to
act a generous part, and do something more for
poor ^lary Glentworth than the Duke himself
might have been disposed to perform.

" Now, my lord," said the Duchess, in a tone
that was half peremptory and half characterized
by a sort of ironical blandness, as if she would
have added, "Pray tell your tale, and make me
your dupe if you can."

" My dear," said the Duke, fidgetting about in
a way which under other circumstances would have
been truly ludicrous, " I think you had better let

the matter drop where it is there may be

secrets, you know 1 wish to Grod Peaseblossom

was here !"

" My lord," ejaculated the Duchess, her accents
being now altogether peremptory, " I insist upon
explanations ! Miss Trafford, will you not speak ?
Whose house is this? why are you here? why
is the Duke here ? and who is dead within its
walls ?"

" I do indeed perceive that I must speak, ray
lady," I said : " for it is almost a desecration of
this scene of death "

"No, no. Miss Trafford! let me speak!" ex-
claimed the Duke. " Tbe fact is, my dear" — and
he advanced with mincing gait and cajoling looks
towards the Duchess — " I came across from
Hastings this evening — I thought I should like a
little walk into Dover— so I sent back tbe post

chaise that brought me from Hastings. I wai
coming along the road, when a mad bull ran at

me 1 was knocked down Miss Trafford

happened to be passing— she kindly picked me
up "

" Good heavens, my lord !" I exclaimed, " is it
possible that in the house of death "

"Pray, Miss Trafford," interrupted the Duchess,
with an appearance of great sweetness of manner,
"let his Grace tell his story in his own way. Up
to the point which he had reached it was ami-
nently romantic ?"

" Ah ! romantic— but very alarming," responded
the Duke, who evidently thought that he was
making his wife believe the absurd tale he was
telling her. " Well, you see, my dear," he con-
tinued, " 1 was brought into this house — the lady
of which was so terribly frightened by seeing the
mad bull rush in amongst her flowers, that she fell
down— she was seized with a fit— and all was over.'
There's her poor daughter "

" For shame, my lord !" I cried, now bending
upon the Duke an indignant glance. " Madam, I
see that I must speak 1"

" Indeed I think you had better. Miss Traf-
ford," said the Duchess, as she turned upon her
husband an annihilating look of the supremest
scorn and loftiest disdain.

" I am staying with a friend in this neighbour-
hood," I continued, — " a highly respectable lady,
Mrs. Oldcastle of Eiver House. Accident threw
me in the way of Miss Glentworth, who with her
mother resided in this cottage. A little more
than two hours back I was hastily sumuioned
hither by the maid-servant j and on my arrival I
found Mrs. Glentworth at the point of death. I
likewise met his Grace hero; and if I have tarried
until now, it was because I would not abandon the
poor afflicted girl whose mother has perished be-
fore her eyes. Who Mrs. Glentworth waa — who
Miss Glentworth is, it is for his Grace to ex-
plain."

" 1 think I can understand, Miss Trafford," said
the Duchess, now showing by her looks and ac-
cents that she fully believed the tale that I had
just told her.

At this instant the maid-servant entered the
room, exclaiming, " Oh, Miss Trafford ! Miss
Glentworth has awoke — and she is asking for
you !"

I rose — bowed to the Duchess— and issued
from the parlour. I was by no means sorry to
leave the Duke and Duchess alone together, now
that sufiicient had been said to put her Grace
upon the right track towards eliciting the wholo
truth. In the passage I paused to ask the maid-
servant if she had mentioned to Miss Glentworth
that there was a lady in the parlour : but she told
me that she had not. I ascended to the chamber,
where I found poor Mary giving way to her afflic-
tion ; and I said all I could to comfort her. She
entreated me to suffer her to go and pray by the
couch on which lay the remains of her mother :
but I conjured her to wait till the morning. Mary
allowed herself to be persuaded; and thus half-au-
hour passed away. At the expiration of that time
I heard an equipage stop in front of the house ;
and I had no doubt it was the second travelling,
carriage, conveying the remainder of her Grace's
suite. Mary was too much absorbed in her own

ELLEX PKKCT; OK, THE ilEMOIRS O F AN ACTRESS.

241

BEATRICE DI CARBOXI.

painful reflections to notica tho sounds of the
vehicle : but in a few minutes it drove on — as
did likewise the other ; so that I concluded the
latter must have been sufficicntlj repaired to con-
tinue its way to Dover.

I passed the rest of that night in tho clumber
with Mary Glentworth : but I knew that the
Duke was still in the house ; for shortly after the
equipages had passed by, I heard him ascend to
his own chamber. For several hours Mary Glent-
worth did not close her eyes ; and not one wink of
sleep did I myself obt-.iia that night. ]3»tween
six and seven o'clock in the morning slumber
again afforded my poor friend a temporary relief
from the bitterness of her affliction; and I then
stole down stairs— for I had heard tho Duke de-
scend a short time previously.

I met him in tho parlour ; and he immediately
No. 31.— Ellen Peect.

said, " Well, Miss Trafford, everything is known
now — thanks to you! — for if you had only backed
me in that tale which I so happily invented "

"My lord, cease this absurdity !" I angrily in-
terrupted him; "and tell me, will her Grace do
anything for Mary G-lentworth ?"

" Xot sho indeed !" exclaimed tho Duke. " She
is desperately indignant— she at first talked of
suing for a divorce — the Ecclesiastical Court — the
House of Lords — separate maiutenance — and
heaven knows what— until I told her if she would
only allow me——"

" To perform your duty towards your daughter,
ray lord ?" I said, in a tone of grave inquiry.

"Xo— to go to Scotland for a time with Pease-
blossom," he answered, " until I could be restored
to her good graces——"

"Bat about Mary Q-lentworth ?" I impatiently

242

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MBIIOIES OF AS ACTEE3S.

asked. " Is she to be thrown upon that benevo-
lence which I promised to invoke for her at the
hands of Mrs. Oldcastle ?"

"I scarcelj see what else is to be done," replied
the Duke. "Pray, vaj dear Miss Trafford, go
presently— I am most anxious to be relieved from
this suspense——"

" Yes, my lord," I interrupted him ; " rest
assured that I shall not delaj : for I perceive
that despite your solemn promise of last evening,
Mary may not hope to find a friend even in her
own father."

"A friend— yes !" ho exclaimed, turning almost
angrily round upon me. " I will allow her a
couple of hundred a year "

" And you think," I said, " that all the care
which you are bound to bestow upon her is limited

Leave mo to manage I will go and pass a few
hours with Miss Glentworth. You have been up
all night : I insist upon your taking some rest. Go
and lie down, my dear child ; and precisely at two
o'clock in the afternoon I will return. You shall
then have my decision."

With these last words Mrs. Oldcastle again
tapped me fondly on the cheek; and she pushed
me gently from the room. My heart was relieved
of a load ; for I felt convinced that she would
yield to my supplication. I was indeed completely
exhausted; and I ascended to my chamber, where
I threw myself down upon the couch. Sleep soon
visited my eyes ; and I slumbered for several
hours. When I awoke, it was half- past ono
o'clock. I knew hoar methodical, regular, and
punctual Mrs. Oldcastlo was in all her proceed-

to a small pecuniary allowance? However, my ings ; and iu half-an-huur she would therefore bo

lord, I will not argue the point with your Grace :

but I will see whether I cannot provide for your

daughter that home to find which you leave her

to shift for herself."

Having thus spoken, I ascended again to Mary

Glentworth's chamber. She still slept : I per-
formed my ablutions ; and the process refreshed

me, for I felt ill and feverish through want of

sleep and the excitement of the various scenes

through whic.h within t)ie last twelve hours I had

been dragged.

It was nine o'clock beforn Mary Glentworth

awoke; and then I represented to her in as deli-
cate and gentle terms as possible, that inasmuch as

her uncle Mr. Glentworth (as I continued to call

the Duke) was not in a position to offer her a

home, I was going to speak to Mrs. Oldcastle on

the subject : but I was careful not to promiso I

should succeed — for I knew how eccentric was the

character of the old lady. Mary embraced me

with a fervour as if she considered me her best if

not her only friend ; and I took a temporary leave

of her, inwardly hoping that my self-imposed

mission to Mrs. Oldcastle would be attended with

success; and if not, I resolved upon persuading

the iSTormans to receive poor Mary when the

funeral should be over.

I bent my way to Eiver House; and I at once

obtained an interview with Mrs. Oldcastle. I did

not choose to betray the Duke's secret : I consi-
dered it to be sacred after the pledge which I had
given to the deceased Mrs. Glentworth. I there-
fore spoke of him only as Mr. Glentworth — repre-
senting that he was so circumstanced as to be un-
able to afibrd his daughter a home— but that he
bad promised to allow lier sufficient for her main-
tenance. Mrs. Oldcastle listened to me with an
expression of countenance which for a while was
perfectly inscrutable ; and at length, as her rigid
features relaxed into a look of kindness, she tapped
me on the cheek, saying, "My dear Ellen, you are
a generous-hearted girl! — much too generous to
deal with all the circumstances of this cold selfish
world !"

" And you will grant my request ?" I exclaimed,
my heart leaping with fervid liope.

"I do not know, Eilen," replied Mrs. Oldcastle.
" I am only acquainted with Mary Glentworth by
Bight— I never in my life spoke a word to her.
Before I agree to receive the young lady into my
house, I must see something more of her : I must
also see her father— this alleged uucle of her's.

with me. I made some little change in my toilet
^paid Juliet a brief visit — and told her as much
of the incidents of the preceding night as I had
thought fit to reveal to Mrs. Oldcastle. I then
returned to my chamber to put on my bonnet and
shawl ; and I descended to the front garden to
await Mrs. Oldcastle's arrival.

It was a beautiful warm day; and the nurse
had brought .put Juliet's infant for the first time.
I took the child from the woman's arms, and sat
down on a garden-bench to fondle the little inno-
cent. As I contemplated its tiny countenance, I
could not help thinking, " And you too, poor
child ! will grow up to be ignored and unacknow-
ledged by your own father, even like poor Mary
Glentworth ! And perhaps you too will be told
some tale of how your parents died in your in-
fancy ; and you will be worse off than even Mary
Glentworth — for your own mo he: will likewise
be compelled to disavow you!"

I remember perfectly well that up to this point
I had merely mused in silence ; for the nurse was
standing near. But perceiving that I was inclined
to retain the child in my arms for a little timo
longer, the woman strolled away to a short dis-
tance ; and then falling again into a musing mood,
I was insensibly led on to give audible expression
to my thoughts.

" Alas, poor child," I said, experiencing the
deepest sympathy for the little innocent unconsci-
ous creature ; " thine is indeed a hard fate, to pos-
sess a father who cares not for thee — and to be
disowned in a short time, as thou wilt be, by thine
own mother ! Alas, poor child ! horn in mystery
and in shame — for Oh, it is so ! — how deeply,
deeply art thou to be pitied ! Happy was thy
mother ere she knew what love was ! — happy when
upon the stage she was contented with the plau-
dits which she elicited ! But now how changed is
everything for her ! Hare, under a feigned name,
has she given birth to thee "

" Oh, my God, Ellen ! is it for this that I have
come hither?" were the wildly spoken worda
which suddenly burst upon my ears ; and I started
in afi'right and dismay, not merely at the words
themselves, but at the voice in which they were
conveyed; for I recognised it full well— it was the
voice of my cousin — tho object of my heart's da-
voted love— Henry Wakefield !

It was a wonder that I did not drop the infant
from my arms, so fearfully was I galvanized — e'j
suddenly did I start up fiom my seat. And bf^

hind that seat, amidst the evergreen?, stood Harry
Wakefield ; and Oh ! never shall I forget the look
of despair and agonj which bis countenance wore
as ho pressed his hand to his brow, ejaculating,
" My God ! my God !"

, " Ilcnry ! dear Honry !" I exclaimed, in a wild
agony of mind ; for I was at once smitten with
the conviction of what hideous thought bad seized
upon him : " bear me, I conjure you !"

" Farewell, Ellen !" be exclaimed, in frenzied
accents and with a look of kindred madness :
"everything is at an end between us !"

And it was like one frantic that dashing through
the maze of evergreens, be rushed away from the
spot. I endeavoured to raise my voice again —
but I could not : my tongue clave to the roof of
my mouth — I felt as if I were choking. A dizzi-
ness seized upon me : I had just sufficient presence
of mind to deposit the infant gently upon the
seat; and then sank down, deprived of conscious-
ness.

When next a gleam of reason began to steal
info ray brain, like the finest thread of light into
the depths of a dark dungeon, — I was lying in
bed : but I could not for some time recollect
where. Two female forms bent over me: they
spoke to me in gentle aud sootliiug voices — the
lips of each were pressed to my cheeks : but I
know not those countenances — I remembered not
those voices. Then it appeared to me as if I slept
again for some interval of unknown length : but
when consciousness once more returned, it was
with a broader gleam of light than on the former
occasion ; and again were those two forms there.
And now I recognised the countenances that bent
down and kissed me : one was that of Mrs. Old-
castle — the other that of Mary Glentworth. 15ut
Mary Glentworth there ! — and in deep mourning !
What could it all mean ? The truth was gradually
and delicately broken to me : I had been stretched
on that bed for seven whole days and nights; and
it was the evening before this day of which I am
now speaking, that I bad obtained that first faint
glimmer of returning consciousness. Yes — for a
whole week I had endured all the perils of a severe
fever, alternating betwixt intervals of deep trance-
like torpor and the ravings of delirium. As for
Mary Glentworth — the funeral was over, and she
had found a home beneath the roof of Mrs. Old-
castlo. Yv'hen I learnt this fact, I took the old
lady's baud and pressed it to my lips in warm tes-
timony of my gratitude.

In respect to myself, I soon discovered that not
a suspicion was entertained relative to the real
cause of my swoon in the garden and my subse-
quent illness. It appeared that the nurse had
wandered away into the grounds at the rear of the
dwelling : but she fancied that she heard a cry,
and she sped back to the front garden. There she
found the infant lying safe upon the bench, and
myself stretched in a fainting tit upon the ground.
I was borne into the bouse— every attention was
paid me — Mrs. Oldcastle soon after arrived from
her visit to Mary Glentworth — and medical
assistance was sent for. The surgeon pronounced
lae to be in a high state of fever ; and thus, as
the reader is already aware, for one whole week
did I remain hovering between life and death —
at one time plunged into a trance-like torpor, at
another raving in delirium. But that my ravings

had afforded not the slightest clue to the real cause
of my swoon, nor had in any way betrayed the
visit of Harry Wakefield or the inauspicious cir-
cumstances attending it, was evident enough from
what Mrs. Oldeastla and Mary Glentworth pro-
ceeded to say to mo.

"You passed an agitated night in the house of
death, my dear Ellen," said the old lady : "you
slept not a single wink — your nerves were un-
strung by the sudden catastrophe which deprived
your poor friend of a parent— and thus everything
tended to excite you. It was really no wonder
that your physical powers should have succumbed
beneath such influences !"

" Alas, my dear Ellen I" said Mary Glentworth,
in a soft voice that was tremulous with emotion,
as she bent down and kissed my cheek ; " it was
all on my account that this has happened ! Ob, how
you have suffered for your kindness to me ! — and
how immeasurably would it have added to my
affliction if I had lost you, my best friend 1"

I begged Mrs. Oldcastle and Mary to leave me
a little while to myself,— alleging that I felt the
necessity of collecting my scattered ideas. Nor
was this indeed a mere pretext : it was the truth ;
for never had I greater need to reflect upon the
unfortunate circumstances which had so recently
occurred.

When left alone, I gave free vent to my tears ;
for it was shocking to think how Henry had been
deceived by circumstantial evidence, and how
frightfully I had suffered in his estimation, I
remembered how I had been musing aloud for the
few minutes previous to that sudden ejaculation
which had burst from his lips : I could even recall
to my recollection every syllable I bad thus ut-
tercd; and I had no doubt he had remained the
while an unseen listener, enduring mental agonies
the bare idea of which was sufficient to drive me
mad. Oh ! doubtless he had sought me in London
— ho had there learnt that I was at River House,
near Dover — he had sped on the wings of love to
this place to find mo— and perhaps on arriving at
his destination, he had first caught a glimpse of
me in the garden, when thinking to afford me a
most happy surprise, he had stolen nigh enough to
behold a babe in my arms, and to catch all the
words I was addressing unto the little innocent.
These details did I picture to myself; and I thought
too how fearfully every species of circumstantial
evidence had combined to ruin me in the estima-
tion of Harry Wakefield ! When standing amidst
the evergreens, listening to the words that were
flowing from my lips, numerous ideas must have
flashed to his brain to corroborate the dreadful
suspicion which had smitten him. He must have
remembered that I had concealed from his mother
how I had betaken myself to the stage — and that
from him likewise had I withheld the same fact,
until his approaching return to England had at
length elicited the avowal from me. And then
too, he must have seen that there was subterfuge
or duplicity in the little manoeuvres I had adopted
to veil from him my sojourn at River House, and
to induce him to communicate with me from
Paisley, so that I should know at what precise
time I might expect to meet him in London. And
lastly his prejudice against the theatrical profes-
sion must have combined with all other circum-
stances to impress him with the very natural

KLlEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACIEESS.

convictioo that I had ceased to be worthy of
Liin.

But what was I now to do P I was cliained to
a bed of sickness; and at least another week must
elapse before I could hope to be enabled to get out
into the fresh air. A fortnight must puss before
I should be fit for travelling. Oh, that I were at
once able to speed in search of Henry Wakefield
— to Cud him — and to vindicate myself! Ah, but
in so doing I must reveal partially if not wholly
Juliet's secret ! So strong were the circumstances
against me, that I dared not expect my cousin to
believe the simple statement that it was the child
cf another which he had seen in my arms, unless
I were to afford him corroborative proof of the
tale. But how was I to do this without betraying
Juliet? For a long time I reflected upon the
painful subject— until at length an idea struck me.
What this was, I need not at present state.

Fain would I have at once written to my
cousin to implore him to suspend his judgment
until I could see him: but I was too weak and
feeble to hold a pen— and I did not choose to con-
fide the history of my sorrows to any other person.
I was therefore compelled to wait two or three
days until I had just strength sufficient to trace a
few Hues upon paper. I then implored Henry, by
the love which he had borne me, and by that
earDest afiection which I continued to experience
for him, to suspend his opinion until he bad
beard me ; for that I was innocent, and I could
explain everything ! I addressed the letter to
him under cover to the Paisley manufacturer ; and
my mind felt more easy when this task was ac-
complished.

My health was improving : for being conscious
of innocence, and having faith in the justice of
heaven, I felt assured that the time must sooner
or later come when I could make my guiltlessness
apparent to him whom I was deeply anxious to
disabuse of the dreadful suspicion which he enter-
tained. I now had an opportunity of having some
conversation with Mis. Oldcastle in respect to
Mary Glentworth. She had taken a liking to the
young lady : the more she saw of her, the more
she was convinced of her artlessness and purity of
mind ; and so far from regretting that she had
afforded her a home, she would have infinitely re-
gretted the denial of an asylum to the orphan
girl. She had seen the Duke of Ardleigh — but
entertained not the remotest suspicion who he
actually was: she believed bica to be plain and
simple Mr. Glentworth. She had been but little
impressed in his favour ; and therefore wondered
not that he should seek to throw his daughter
upon the friendship of others. He bad promised
to allow Mary two or three hundred a-yoar ;
and Mrs. Oldcastle had replied that though she
herself should accept of no payment nor reward
for afibrding the youug lady an asylum, yet that
she should insist upon the fulfilment of that agree-
ment as a means of making a future provision far
Miss Glentworth. It further appeared that the
Duke, having entrusted all the arrangements for
the funeral to an undertaker at Dover, had soon
afterwards departed from the cottage ; so that he
fallowed not the remains of his late mistress to the
grave.

I found that Mary Glentworth was fortified
with a sweet pious resignation in respect to the

loss of her mother : and I learnt that when after
the funeral she had removed to River House, she
had been unwearied in her attentions to mo. In-
deed, the amiable girl displayed towards me as
much aficclionate solicitude as if she were my
own sister. She had of course formed the ac-
quaintance of Juliet, whom she only knew how-
ever as Mrs. Hall.

Mrs. Oldcastle had written to the Normans to
tell them that I was ill; but she did not say how
veiy ill I really was, fur fear lest they should set off
for River House despite her injunctions to the con-
trary. The day after I wrote to Harry Wakefield,
I penned a few lines to Mrs. Norman, to tran-
quillize her mind on iny behalf and assure her
that I was approaching towards convalescence.
At the expiration of a week after my return to
consciousness, I was enabled to get down into the
garden, supported by the arm of Mary Glent-
worth; and at the end of another week I found
my health so much improved that I became im-
patient to set out on my intended journey in
search of my cousin : for alas ! I had received no
letter from him — no reply was vouchsafed to my
few brief lines of earnest appeal ; and yet I felt
convinced he must have received my note by this
time ; for even if he had not returned to Paisluv,
Mr. Macdonald, I conjectured, must be sure to
know his address.

It was now, as I have said, a fortnight after my
return to consciousness— but three whole weeks
since the fatal incident in the garden which had
produced such dire results. The same medical
man who had attended Juliet in her confinement,
had been ministering unto me ; and I one morn-
ing took an opportunity, when we were alone to-
gether, to address him upon a particular subject,
in pursuance of the idea which I had already
formed.

" Mr. Singleton," I said — for that was his name,
— " I wish you to do me a very particular favour ;
and likewise to keep the request itself a profound
secret."

" Speak, Miss Traflford," he answered ; " and
you will see how ready I am to serve you if it lie
in my power."

I expressed my thanks for this assurance ; and
I went on to say, " You must now be informed
that the day on which I was taken so ill, I was
seen by an acquaintance of mine fondling Mrs.
Hall's infant in the garden. From that circum-
stance scandalous stories may arise ; and I wish
you to permit me, if requisite, to refer to you as a
means of vindicating my own character."

" Nothing, Miss Traflford," responded Mr. Sin-
gleton, " can be more proper on your part, and
nothing more easy on mine. I see that the affair
is a delicate one— and you may rely upon my dis-
cretion."

Again I thanked him ; and then I said, " But I
have still another favour to ask of you. Pray do
not refuse me ! You must immediately recom-
mend me change of air; and you yourself must
tell Mrs. Oldcastle that it is necessary. I do not
conceal from you that I have most urgent reasons
for wishing to get away from River House ; and
Mrs. Oldcastle's anxiety on account of my health
would lead her to detain me here for some time
longer, unless you thus kindly aid me to emanci-
pate myself."

ELIEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS.

215

Mr. Singleton looked grave, and reflected for a
few moments: he then said, " It all depends, Miss
Trafford, on the place to which you desire lo go —
the length of the journey— the mode of travelling
—and so forth. Aided by a strong constitution,
you have triumphed marvellously over the peril of
those ailments which beset you; and with ordinary
care you will speedily be as well as ever you wore.
But your health must not be trifled with ; and
your dramatic avocations cannot immediately be
resumed."

" I can assure you that I have no thought of
returning to the stage for some weeks. As for the
journey which I propose to undertake," I con-
tinued, " I confess it is rather a long one : but I
will accomplish it by easy stages. If I be kept
longer chained to this place, my anxiety of miud
will only throw me back upon a sick couch."

"This is likewise to be considered," said Mr.
Singleton,— adding with a half smile, "We medi-
cal men are often compelled to humour our pa-
tients, as I am now disposed to deal by you. Yes
— I will recommend change of air."

"And recommend it to be London," 1 inter-
jected.

Again Mr. Singleton looked grave : but I plied
him with so many entreaties that at length he
agreed to favour my project. He went and sought
Mrs. Oldcastle accordingly; and that worthy lady
was soon in my chamber. She remonstrated on
the ground that Hunter Street was not in the
most salubrious quarter of the metropolis,— ob-
serving that if I had any friends at the West End
■with whom I could stay, she should perhaps be
less inclined to oppose my departure. I thought
at the time that I had been of sufficient service to
the Marchioness of Campanella and the Countess
of Carboni to take a slight liberty with their
names; and I accordingly intimated that I should
be welcome at their abode. Mrs. Oldcastle ofi^ered
no further objection ; and it was agreed I should
depart on the morrow.

I was inwardly rejoiced at the success of my
proji^ct— my spirits became cheered— and I in-
dulged in the hope that the time was not now far
distant when I should clear up my reputation in
the presence of Henry Wakelield. The recom-
mendation of change of air for the metropolis, was
not merely a sufiicient pretext for bidding farewell
to my friends at River House— but likewise to
serve my purpose in the communication which I
had to make to Mr. and Mrs. Norman relative to
my intended removal.

Oa the following day 1 sot out in a post-chaise
for the metropolis, having afifectionately embraced
Mrs. Oldcastle, Juliet, and Mary Glentwortb.
Still feeling the effects of my recent illness, and
fearful of a relapse ere I had accomplished the long
journey that was before me, I only proceeded half
the distance to t!ie metropolis on this first day ;
and on the following one I completed the remain-
der of that portion of my travel. It was still early
iu the afternoon when I arrived in London ; and I
at once proceeded to Hunter Street. There I
learnt that upwards of three weeks back a young
pentleman, announcing himself as my cousin Mr.
Wakefield, had called to see me, and that he dis-
played considerable disappointment on not finding
me there. He was informed by the domestics that
Mr. and Mrs. Norman were at Bamsgate— but

that I was staying at lliver House near Dover.
Mr. Wakefield had then hastened away upon re-
ceiving this intelligence; and therefore it was evi-
dent that he had lost little timo in seeking me at
Mrs. Oldcastle's abode.

JFrom Hunter Street I repaired to the Marquis
of Campanella's mansion at the West End of the
town, — having previously informed Mr. Norman's
servants whither I was going. I was received
with open arms by the Marchioness and Beatrice ;
and when I craved their hospitality until the next
day, it was cordially vouchsafed, accompanied with
the regret that my sojourn beneath that roof was
to be so short. I alleged as my reason for seeking
a temporary asylum there, the fact that the Nor-
mans were out of town, and that I did not like to
be all by myself at the house in Hunter Street.
I was rejoiced to see how well Beatrice was look-
ing; and 1 learnt that she had heard nothing
more of her husband.

On the following morning, as I was in the midst
of my toilette, a lady's-maid entered the chamber
to inform me that a young person who had just
come from Hunter Street, wished to see me. I
thought it must be one of the maids of Mr. Nor-
man's establishment ; and I desired that she might
be shown up. Great was my surprise, therefore,
when in a few minutes Beda bounded into the
room.

Seizing my hand, she pressed it to her lips with
an effusion of joy ; and then she raised her large
dark eyes towards my countenance in a manner
which seemed most pathetically to deprecate any
annoyance that I might feel at the step which she
had thus of her own accord taken. But how
could I possibly chide the poor girl who had shown
so many proofj of fidelity, love, and devotion to-
wards mo ?

" And how came you here, Beda ?" I asked in a
kind tone.

" Oh ! I learnt. Miss, that you had been ill," ex-
claimed the girl ; " and for the last three weeks I
have been longing to come to you — but I know
not where you were staying. Yesterday morning
Mrs. Norman received a letter from you ; and I
happened to overhear her reading a part of its
contents to Mr. Norman. Thus I learnt you
were coming to London : but I was then ignorant
that you meant to stay elsewhere thim in Hunter
Street. I besought Mrs. Norman to suffer me to
come to you : but she refused, saying that if you
had wished to have me you wou^d have intimated
that desire in your letter. Oh ! then I was so un-
happy and miserable, and I wept so all day long —
for I thought you no longer cared for me "

"Poor Beda!" I said, tapping her cheek fondly.
"Think you that I shall ever forget the immense
services you rendered me the other day at Hams-
gate ? But proceed. I hope you did not leave
Mr. and Mrs. Norman without their consent?"

" See, Miss !" ciclaimed Beda, presenting mo a
note : '•' this will doubtless explain everything."

The letter was from Mrs. Norman, — in which
she informed me that Beda seemed so unhappy at
not being allowed to attend me in London, that
she had taken it upon herself to grant the per-
mission which the girl so much desired. It then
appeared that nothing would satisfy Beda but that
she must come up by the night-coach, so as to be
with me as soon as possible. Mrs. Norman did

246

SLIiEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTHE3S.

not happen to know where the Marquis of Cam-
panclla dwelt; aud thus she had bidden Boda re-
pair iu tlio first instance to Hunter Street, so that
the iuquii-y might bo made for her. One of the
servants there knew the address of the Marquis;
and Beda had lost no time in coming to me.

I gave her many kind words as a reward for her
affectionate solicitude on my behalf; and then I
said, " I am going to tell you a very groat secret,
Beda : but you are so faithful and trustworthy that
I know you will keep it."

"Oh, that I will!" she exclaimed, her superb
eyes becoming singularly luminous with the joy of
being admitted into my confidence.

'■■ I am going to set out presently on a very lung
journey, Beda," I continued; "and you shall ac-
company me. But you are not hereafter to speak
of this unless I give you my free permission."

" As I would lay down my life for you," she
emphatically replied, " you do not suppose that I
would fail ill my obedience in a matter so easy as
this."

I was satisfied; and having bidden farewell to
the Marquis aud Marchioness of Campanella, as
well as to Beatrice— whom I begged to take charge
of any letters that might arrive in my absence — I
entered the carriage which the Marnhioness had
ordered to convey mo to the railway -station.
Beda accompanied me ; and we set out on our
journey towards the north.

OHAPTEK XLIII.

THE MEETING.

It was about ton or eleven months since I was
foraierly at Paisley, on the occasion when I at-
tended the death- bed of my aunt Mrs. Wakefield.
The clocks were striking five in the afternoon
when I thus reached it again; and I repaired to a
hotel, s'.ill attended by the faithful Beda. I had
not so completely adhered to my resolve to per-
form the journey by easy stages, as to arrive in
Paisley without the sense of much weariness, ap-
proaching even to eshaustion : but still I could
not rest a moment before making inquiries for
Henry Wakefield.

I penned a brief note, to the efifect that I had
come all the way from the neighbourhood of
Dover— a distance of some hundreds of miles —
for the purpose of giving those explanations and
affording those proofs which should convince my
cousin Low deeply wronged I had been by his
suspicions. I claimed it as a right that ho should
afford me an opportunity of clearing up niy cha-
racter; and I entreated that no matter what
ch*ge had taken place in his feelings towards
me, he would not deny me this right which as a
fellow-creature I demanded.

I entrusted the note to the hotel-porter to take
to Mr. Macdonald's manufactory or to his private
residence, at whichsoever place Mr. Wakefield
might be found; or at all events to prosecute his
inquiiics until he should discover whether my
cousin \sere still in Paisley or not. The man set
out; and the half-hour of his absence was a most
anxious one for me. I had consigned Beda to the
bed-chamber ; and I was alone in the sitting-

room which I occupied at the hotel. Wearied
though I were, I could not remain seated : I kept
walking about in the room, although a thousand
times I said to myself that I ought to have more
fortitude and composure, and that I was ^xcting
rather as a guilty than as an innocent person.
Ah! but then, reader, I loved Henry! — and it
was very different in having to vindicate myself
before 7dm, from what it would have been if he
were a person who was in all respects indifferent
to me save with regard to the suspicion which was
entertained against my character !

At length the porter returned, bringing me the
announcement that he had found Mr. Wakefield
at the private residence of Mr. Macdonald, and
that he would be with me in a few minutes. The
man retired ; and I now exerted all my power to
arm myself with composure, I succeeded but
indifferently ; for my nerves, weakened by illness,
had been unstrung by the long journey and by
the excitement of the thoughts which had occu-
pied me while travelling. Indeed I was fearfully
agitated ; and when I heard footsteps approaching
along the passage leading to the parlour, I felt a
dizziness come over mo as if I should faint. The
door was thrown open — and the waiter aiinounLed
Mr. Wakefield,

I sank down upon a seat: I could not give
utterance to a word. My cousin appeared in the
room ; and the door closed behind him. His
countenance was very pale: his classical well-
formed lips were compressed with a severe espres-
slon : but he could not prevent a look of cumpas-
sion and of lingering fondness from appearing in
his soft brown eyes. All of a sudden I regained
somewhat of ray self-possession ; and rising from
my seat, I exclaimed, " Henry, you have wronged
me ! I swear to you that I am innocent !"

He shook his head despairingly,— murmuring,
"Would to God that I could think so !"— aud it
was with diiliculty that ho stifled a sob which ap-
peared to be convulsing him inwardly.

" O Henry !" I exclaimed, in a voice of reproach ;
" if every Ifind of circumstantial evidence had
combined to throw a suspicion on i/oai- character,
I should not thus prejudge you— I should at least
have listened to whatsoever explanations you
might have had to proffer!— and Oh! I should
not suffer a whole fortnight to elapse without con-
descending to l;ike the slightest notice of any letter
that you might have written to me !"

" In that respect, Ellen, I am blameless," re-
plied my cousin. " I returned but this day to
Paisley after an absence at Liverpool ; aud by an
oversight the letter you wrote mo from llivor
House, was not forwarded in the interval to my
address at that town. I have been like one dis-
tracted Oh ! there are so many circumstances

for you to explain, that I fear But I will hear

you, Ellen ! Grod knows I am iacapable of doing
you a wilful wrong !"

He had pressed his hand to his brow when in-
terrupting himself in the midst of his speech : for
an instant ho had a wild half-frenzied look ; and,
Oh ! the bitterest pangs shot through my heart as
I thus contemplated him ! He sat down ; and his
strong efforts to maintain an air of composure
were plainly visible.

" In the first place," I said, my cheeks suddenly
burning at the idea of vindicating myself on sucli

EXLEN PBECr; OH, THE MEMOIBS OP AK ACTEESS.

247

a point, " the infant that you beheld in my arms
was but a few days old : it was the child of a
friend of mine ; and if you cannot believe me,
Henry, you may refer to Mr. Singleton at River —
a medical gentleman of the highest respecta-
bility."

"Ellen," replied my cousin, in a low deep voice,
" You may conceive how painful it is for me to be
compelled to discourse with you on such a subject.
Were it only tJiat incident to which you have
alluded, the explanation would suffice, and I should
be ready to lay violent hands upon myself to think
that I had wronged you with such a suspicion.

But there are so many other circumstances "

" Ah ! first let us allude, I exclaimed, " to the
secrecy which I observed in respect to my profes-
sion. You know that when I quitted my poor
deceased aunt's home in Sheffield, it was for the
purpose of obtaining a situation in London. On
arriving in the metropolis, I was doomed to a ter-
rible disappointment. A deceiver and a villain
had answered my advertisement, and had deluded
me thither. But at the very moment when I was
reduced to despair, heaven threw me in the way
of a friend — an old school-fellow — Juliet Norman.
With the Normans I found a home— that home
where you recently sought me in Hunter Street.
You know that they belong to the stage; and
thus you may account for my embarking in a pro-
fession which seemed the only one open to me.
And Ob ! was I to blame that I sought to eat the
bread of mine own industry, instead of remaining
dependent upon the humble means of your mo-
ther ? — or was it a fault if entertaining some
silly little vanity, and perhaps having a presenti-
ment of that fame which I have since acquired, I
resolved to cherish my secret until the moment
when I might proudly say to my aunt and my
cousin, ' You have heard of iliss Trafford, the
celebrated actress who is acquiring wealth and
renown : I am she !' "

"Proceed, Ellen!" said my cousin, evidently
interested, but' still with a profoundly mournful
look.

" Alas ! I was not allowed to experience that
joyous occasion which I had so longingly antici-
pated," I continued;— "it was not permitted me
to act thus towards your mother! Suddenly was
I summoned to her death-bed. I arrived at your
cottage — I stole gefltly up the stairs— I heard
what was passing between yourself and my poor
aunt ; and then, my God ! for the first time I
learnt how strong were her prejudices against
the profession which I had adopted. You know,
Henry, that a few minutes afterwards she was no
more : I had not a moment's opportunity to con-
fess the real truth. I subsequently found that
yoa yourself were imbued with the same preju-
dice But why should I recapitulate," I sud-
denly interrupted myself, " much of what I have
already told you in that long letter of mine
wherein I at length avowed the truth ?"

"And I will admit," answered my cousin, "that
when I read that letter— and when I perused the
newspaper-criiigrMfiS which it contained — I was
overjoyed: I felt proud of you, Ellen: all preju-
dice had vanished— and I thought of you as one
who had achieved a brilliant reputation in an in-
credibly short space of time and in spite ot all ob-
stae.es. I flew to the metropolis to meet you :

but you were not in Hunter Street. I learnt too j
that you had gone away with the intention of re-
maining absent for some weeks;— and yet you [
had desired me to write to you in Hunter Street, |
as if you were still to be there ! But that was
only a trivial incident at the time ; and I paused
not to reflect upon it. I sped to Dover : thence I
walked out to River House — and Oh, Ellen! when
I perceived your form seated on the garden-bench,
my heart leapt for joy within me ! I meant to
surprise you with my presence : but as I stole
near, what words reached me !"

'Recall them all," I said, "and you will see,
Henry, that they were addressed to the child of a
hapless friend of mine— one who has been cruelly
betrayed "

" Ellen," interrupted my cousin, " if this were
the case, wherefore all that mystery in which you
shrouded your own proceedings? Why make mo
believe that you were expecting me in Huuter
Street when you were actually at River House?"

"Because, Henry," I replied with coiifid'.'nco,
" it was necessary to shield the secret of ray un-
fortunate and betrayed friend even from ?/om.
Thus it was to avert the chance of your visit to
River House that I adopted a little subterfuge that
was venial enough when rendered necessary by
the claims of friendship in another quarter. But
enous;h, Henry! I have now vindicated myself;
and I have told you to whom to refer. Did it not
ofi'end my pride— my modesty as a woman— my
innocence, to continue in this strain, I would re-
mind you of the fact that up to the instant I left
London I regularly appeared upon the stage ; and
my servant who is now with me, could tell you
that only throe or four days before you behe'.d mo
at River House I was with the Normans at Rams-
gate."

'•'Ellen, Ellen ! forgive me !" exclaimed Heni-j.
" My God ! forgive me ! I have been half mad !"
— and he threw himself weeping at my feet.

Oh ! what emotions swelled within me as I
raised him from his suppliant posture; and the
next instant we were clasped in each other's arms.
In the most impassioned language did Henry
Wakefield implore my pardon ; and over and over
again did I assure him of it. Bitterly did he up-
braid himself for the suspicions which he had en-
tertained : but I said all 1 could to console hiin,
admitting that circumstantial evidence had been
strong against me.

" Ah ! you know not," he vehemently ox-
claimed, " what in my madness I have done !"

" Good heavens, Henry !" I asked, smitten
with consternation, " what do you mean !"

" Oh, that I should be compelled to tear myself
away from you again!" he cried: "but there is
no help for it ! When believing, Ellen, that
everything was at an end between us, I sped b^ck
to Paisley— I entreated Mr. Macdouald to suffer
me to return on his account to the United Slates
—and I showed him how I could materially ad-
vance his interests. He agreed : and I at onco
sped to Liverpool to make all the requisite ar-
rangements. These I hurried on— for the dis-
tracted state of my mind would not sufter me to
remain patiently in England : 1 held the country

in abhorrence "

"If you haye done not'ainjr more than this,
Henry," I said, "be comforted! You can ro-

248

EI-LSK PEECT ; OR, THE ME.M0IE3 OF A.y ACTRESS.

nounce your ensjagement with Mr. Macdo-
nald "

" Impossible !" he exclaimed. " I am in honour
bound to adhere to it. Moreorer there are agree«
ments signed——"

" Then by all means ful61 them," I answered :
and with downcast looks, whilo my cheeks were
clothed in blushes, I added, " We can wait, Henry,
as we have already waited : and if you have con-
fidence in your own love, believe me when I assure
you that mine is unalterable !"

Ho folded me in his arms, again giving way to
the bitterest self-reproaches for having mistrusted
me : and again I had to take upon myself the part
of a consoler. He grew tranquillized ; and we
conversed more deliberately upon our plans. He
calculated that his approaching absence from Eng-
land would be for at least a twelvemonth — at the
eapiration of which time he hoped to be in the
possession of a considerable sum of money as his
share of the commercial ventures in which he
was about to embark fur Mr. Macdonald. I asked
him to tell me frankly and sincerely whether he
had any objection that I should remain upon the
stage.''— and be at once replied, "After all that
has occurred, Ellen, it would be nothing less than
a downright insult if I were to beseech you to
withdraw from a profession through whose ordeal
of temptations you have already passed with so
much credit to yourself. No, my dear girl !— con-
tinue to pursue that profession which you love
and in which you are acquiring so much fame. I
bavo already told you, Ellen, I felt proud of
knowing that she who was the idol of my heart
had achieved so grand a success !"

I was much rejoiced by the manner in which
Henry now addressed ne ; and I thought it right
to tell him that I had a father living— that this
father had been both criminal and unfortunate —
that he was sincerely penitent for his misdeeds —
and that he was residing in seclusion in France.
But I did not reveal to my cousin the peculiar
circumstances which had gradually led me on to
discover that the so-called Mr. Croft was the
author of my being ; for if I had entered into
those details it would have been necessary to
trench upon the circumstances which involved
Juliet's secret. My father was the late Mr. "Wake-
field's brother, and consequently Henry's uncle : I
considered that my cousin had a right to be in-
formed of the existence of that relative; and I
had moreover received a painful lesson teaching
mo to avoid in future the unnecessary retention of
any secret. Harry listened with astonishment to
the intelligence which I thus communicated, and
I said to him, " You will not think the worse of
me for possessing such a father ?"

" Oh, conceive not such an idea, my beloved
Ellen !" he exclaimed. " How is it possible that
you can be rendered responsible for the deeds of
others, no matter how nearly they may be con-
nected with youP"

I then proceeded (o inform my cousin that the
very Mrs. Oldcastle of whom so much had been
said, was likewise a connexion of oursj and here
again was a subject of surprise for Henry Wake-
field, as he had never even heard his mother speak
of such a family.

With reference to the numerous adventures
which I had experienced through the persecutions

of Edwin St. Clair, I said but little ; for I feared
that if I now revealed everything I should only
be torturing my cousin with apprehensions for
my future welfare — which apprehensions might
accompany him across the Atlantic and haunt him
during the twelvemonth of bis absence. I never-
theless informed Henry that I had received a pro-
posal of marriage from Captain St. Clair, whose
fame as an orator in the House of Commons was
so widely spread ; and I added that in consequence
of my r-fiisal I had converted Captain St. Clair
into a bitter enemy. I also whispered to my
cousin that I had received a similar proposal from
the Marquis of Dalrymple, the heir to a dukedom j
and I said, " It is through no idle vanity, my dear
Henry, that I mention these circumstances : it is
only to afford you additional proofs of the con-
stancy and fidelity of my attachment towards your-
self.""

" Oh, Ellen !" he exclaimed, "you have rejected
these brilliant offers on my account ! — and I who
have displayed so much ungenerous suspicion in
return ! Ah, my conduct savours of the blackest
ingratitude "

" Speak not thus, Henry," I interrupted him ;
" or I shall regret that I have revealed those facts
to your cars. Yet after Laving been suspected,"
I added, in a gentler voice, "it is sweet for me to
be enabled to afford you these proofs of my un-
changed and unchangeable love !"

"And henceforth, Ellen," replied my cousin,
" the whole study of my life shall be to ensure
your happiness. Yes— doubtless you have received
brilliant offers ; and you will yet receive others ;
for you are as beautiful as you are talented, and as
intelligent as you are amiable. Oh ! would that I
had some prospect of achieving reputation and
wealth on my own side !— but I fear that when the
day comes which is to unite us, no more to part, it
will be but a humble bridegroom who will conduct
you to the altar 1"

"You will at least bear the reputation of an
honourable man, Henry," I replied : " whatsoever
you possess — be it much or little — will have been
earned by your own honest industry;— and when
we throw the contents of our purses into a com-
mon stock, we shall not pause to examine who
may have contributed the most."

Thus Henry and I sat conversing until ho
deemed it prudent to take Jiis departure, — pro-
mising to return on the following day ; and he '
left me in a state of mind very different from that
which I experienced when entering Paisley a few
hours back. I slept sweetly and serenely that
night; and when I arose in the morning, it was
scarcely with any sense of fatigue. Indeed,
w'hen I looked at myself in the glass, I was sur-
prised as well as rejoiced at the improvement
which had taken place in my aspect.

I was not altogether sorry that my union with
Henry was yet to be postponed for a twelvemonth
— although I regretted the necessity of a complete
separation for such a period. But in respect to
the postponement of our marriage, I thought that
it was perhaps all for the best, as we were still
both very young — I only nineteen and my cousin
twenty-one; and moreover, as he had a prospect of
gaining some little money during the ensuing
twelvemonth, I knew that it would bettei: suit the
manly independence of his spirit that he should

i'lLEN PERCY ; OK, TUB MEMOIRS OP AN ACIEESS.

219

lil^a^^

possess a purse of bis o^n, and not be altogetber
indebted to Lis wife for tbe means of existence.
Besides, I vrisbed him to gain as large an expe-
rience of the world as possible — so as completely
to eflface whatsoever little prejudices might have
been instilled into his mind during the earlier
period of his life. Thus, for these various reasons,
I was far from being displeased at the necessity of
procrastinating tho happy day which would give
me a legal protector in Henry Wakefield.

Shortly after breakfast he came to me at the
hotel : he had informed Mr. Macdonald of my pre-
sence in Paisley and of the engagement which sub-
sisted between us : the worthy manufacturer had
sent me a message to the effect that his wife and
daughters would call upon me in the course of the
day, and that I must dine at his bouse in the
evening. Henry bad yet three or four days to re-
main at Paisley ; and I was resolved to tarry there
likewise until he took his departure : but 1 did not
No. 32.— Ellen Peect.

purpose to accompany him to Liverpool, for fear
lest an occasion should be given for the whisper-
ings of scandal. Mr. Macdonald'a wife and
daughters called upon me in the afternoon : they
were amiable good-hearted ladies, and proud as
well as delighted to form my acquaintance. I
passed a happy evening at their house ; for Henry
himself was there — and in bis society how could
I be otherwise than happy ? Mr. Macdonald took
an opportunity of assuring me that he had every
reason to be satisfied with my cousin, to whose in-
telligence and perseverance he was indebted for
the recovery of a very large sum of money which
had been owed him by his New York agents, who
had fallen into difficulties. But it appeared that
Henry had so judiciously managed the business
entrusted to him that he had enabled those agents
not only to meet their liabilities but also to save
themselves from total bankruptcy. Mr. Mac-
donald added that he bad such perfect confidence

250

BLLBN FESCT; OB, ISB UBU0IB3 O? AS ACTIIEB9.

in Henry's rectitude, intelligence, and business-
like Labits, he was now on the point of entrusting
him with the management of a very considerable
speculation, the result of which might prove most
lucrative to my cousin as well as to the manufac^
turer himself— but that the former was guaranteed
against all the conficquences of loss. I was de-
lighted to hear Heary thus favourably spoken of,
and I now comprehended how it was actually a
point of honour with him to carry out the agree-
ments he had made with his kind and conliding
patron. Eefore this little conversation between
myself and Mr. Macdonald ended, he- hinted to
me that if the enterprise on which my cousin was
bent, should prove successful and realize the hopes
he bad held out, there was every chance that ho
might be taken into partnership with his patron.

The time passed quickly away— as quickly as it
always does when happily spent; and the day
arrived on which I was to bid Henry farewell.
He comprehended the reason which prevented me
from accompanying him to Liverpool ; and I saw
by his looks that he approved of it. We embraced
each other fervidly : again and again did we
embrace : we exchanged the warmest protesta-
tions of unalterable offection and we sepa-
rated ! For the remainder cf that day I was dull
and unhappy enough, so that I could scarcely
reconcile myself to the philosophy of those reason-
ings which had at first induced me to consider
that the postponement of our marriage was all
for the best. But when the following day came,
and my mind was more tranquillized by the effects
of a night's rest, I again viewed the matter in the
eame light as I had previously done ; and I said
to myself, " Henry will be successful in this new en-
terprise— I am confident that he will ! And if so,
how rejoiced shall we be for having made the
temporary sacrifice of our more selfish feelings !"

I now prepared to quit Paisley. I had already
hinted to Beda that the object of my visit to that
town was to see my cousin— but that this circum-
stance was included in the secrecy that she was to
maintain with reference to the whole proceeding.
Beda faithfully promised to obey all my injunc-
tions ; and the devoted girl was rejoiced to see me
Eo happy as I had. been since that memorable
evening of explanations with Henry Wakefield.
I took leave of the Macdonald family, and we set
out on our return southward.

We arrived at Birmingham without any inci-
dent worthy of mention: it was about seven
o'clock in the evening when we reached that great
manufacturing town ; and there we were to pass
the night. Mr. Singleton, the surgeon at Eiver,
had given me a prescription for some medicine
which he had enjoined me to take for some little
time until I should find my strength completely
restored ; and I was too careful of my health to
neglect that well- meant advice. After having
partaken of dinner at the hotel where I put up, I
sent Beda out to a chemist's to get the prescrip-
tion made up ; for 1 had exhausted the last supply
of the medicine ere I left Paisley. It was at
about half-past eight that I thus despatched Beda
on her errand ; and I sat either engaged with my
own thoughts, or else reading a local newspaper,
for upwards of an hour, when it suddenly struck
me as somewhat singular that Beda had not re-
turned to the room. Still I thought that she

might have taken the medicine to my bed-charcber,
and that she was perhaps in her own room,
which communicated with my sleeping-apartment.
Thither I proceeded : but Beda was not there —
neither could I perceive the medicine. I descended
to the sitting-apartment— rang the bell — and in-
quired of the waiter whether my maid had re-
turned from an errand on which I had sent her
upwards of an hour back ? He said that he would
see : but in a few minutes he reappsarcd, with
the intimation that he could not find my maid
anywhere in the hotel. I merely bade him direct
that she should be sent to mc when she returned ;
and in his presence I betrayed no emotioa at her
prolonged absence.

I thought to myself that Beda must have some
very good motive for thus remaining away ; and
remembering the recent incidents at Eamsgate, I
could not possibly conceive anything to her disad-
vantage. But I feared lest some new plot might be
hatching against myself— though I felt confident
that if this were the case, and she had found a
clue to it, she would likewise discover the moans
of baffling it. Another half-hour passed : it was
now ten o'clock — and still she returned not.
I was growing exceedingly uneasy ; for I re-
membered that the cottage where Zarah and
her grandmother had recently dwelt, was at
no great distance from Birmingham j and I
thought it possible that Beda's absence might ba
in some way connected with the old gipsy. I
waited another half-hour with increasing anxiety :
it was now midway between ten and eleven
o'clock ; and I could endure this state of suspense
no longer. I again rang the bell, and inquired if
my maid had returned ? Still the answer was in
the negative ; and now I did not endeavour to
conceal my uneasiness. The waiter suggested
that possibly my maid might have some friends
in Birmingham, whom she had gone to visit. I
afi'ected to bo satisfied with this explanation : for
what else could I say ? what else could I do ?

Time passed on — midnight came— and still Bjda
had not returned. I felt so seriously uneasy that
I apprehended my sensations would produce a
relapse, and I should be thrown upon a sick bed
in a strange place where I was without friends.
I thought of a thousand schemes — of hiring a
vehicle at once and proceeding to the roadside
cottage on the way to Embledon— of repairing to
a magistrate— of wandering out on foot through
the streets in search of the lost one : but to
nothing definite could I settle my mind. I sat
up till near one o'clock ; and then, thoroughly ex-
hausted, I retired to rest. An uneasy sleep visited
me. I was haunted by painful dreams ; and when
I awoke in the morning I felt ill and feverish.

As I looked around the room, I perceived that
the door of communication with the inner cham-
ber was open ; and I had a perfect recollection of
having closed it ere seeking my couch. Was it
possible that Beda had returned ? I sprang
from the bed — rushed into the adjfici?nt chamber
— and to my joy discovered the objtct of my
anxiety calmly slumbering in her couch. So great
was my delight that I stooped down and kissed
her with a degree of fervour that had little regard
fur the slumber in which she was wrapped ; — and
she opened her large dark eyes.

" Au, my dear mistress I" she exclaimed, throvr-

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

251

tag her arms round my neck : " how you must
have suffered on my accouut !"

" Indeed I have, Bada !" I responded. " I
knew not now how to act — and if I had not now
found you hero I should not have suffered many
hours to pass without adopting energetic measures
for your discovery. When did you return ?"

" It was about three in the morning when I
reached the hotel," she replied. " Knowing that
tny absence must have occasioned strange sus-
picions amongst the domestics of the establish-
ment, I told the porter who let me in, that I had
chanced to fall in with some relatives, in whose
company I had been ; and to give a colour to my
story, I expressed the hope that I should not bo
chided by my mistress. The man has therefore
by this time repeated the tale to his fellow-domes-
tics; and thus my absence is so far accounted
for."

" But now tell me, Beda," I exclaimed, full of
anxiety, " what has been the real cause of this ab-
sence of your's ? Or perhaps you wish to sleep
longer— and you shall tell me presently——"

" No, Miss — I have slept sufficiently," she re-
plied ; '•' and I am sure that you must be dying
with curiosity. But perhaps you suspected that
there must be some strong reason "

'■' I felt confident that you were incapable of
absenting yourself wilfully or improperly," I has-
tily interjected : and then, having thrown on a
morning wrapper, I sat down by the side of Beda's
bed.

" Look at these two boxes," said the young girl,
her luminous eyes darting upon me one of those
strange looks which were so incomprehensible for
any one who did not rightly understand her dispo-
sition, or who had not positive proof of her sin-
cerity and trustworthiness.

As she spoke, she produced from beneath her
pillow a couple of little tin boxes ; and opening
their lids, she showed me that one contained a num-
ber of small lozenges, about the size of coffee-beans,
and of a similar colour. The other box likewise
contained things like lozenges : but these were of
a light pinky hue. I gazed upon Beda with asto-
nishment,— wondering what these articles could
possibly have to do with that mysterious absence
of her's which had yet to be explained.

The girl's countenance grew not merely serious
—there was a certain deep solemnity in her look :
but at the same time a visible shudder swept over
her sylphid form, as she said to me in slow mea-
sured accents, " These brown lozenges contain
poison : these pink ones are a complete anti-
dote !"

" Good heavens, Beda 1" I ejaculated, my whole
frame quivering with horror : but my ideas at once
settled upon St. Clair, Lady Lilla Esscndine, and
the old gipsy.

" Yes, Miss — I have told you truly," continued
Beda; " and again have I been fortunate enough
to fathom a plot which was laid against your
life."

" Oh, I suspected that your absence must have
some motive of this kind !" I exclaimed. " But
those wretches who are thus seeking my death !

■ it has now indeed become time that I should

act not merely upon the defensive "

" Listen to me," interrupted Beda ; " and hear
all that I have to say : it will then be time to re-

flect upoa the course which you may decide upon

pursuing. But However," she interrupted

herself, " let mo toll my tale. I was returning
through the stwefs last evening, after having pro-
cured youi" medicine at the chemist's, when I sud-
denly found myself face to face with the old gipsy,
Zarah's grandmother— Damo Betty, as we call her.
I showed but little astonishment, and was careful
not to betray the slightest annoyance at this en-
counter; for I could in a moment tell by the
dame's countenance that she had some particular
reason on her own part for being gratified at the
meeting. Thus it instantaneously flashed to my
mind that whatsoever her objects might be, I
should do well to listen to them, and with appa-
rent readiness lend myself to them likewise, if
asked to do so.—' Why, you are with Miss Percy !'
Dame Betty almost immediately said ; and she
looked me very hard in the face, as if to assure
herself to what extent she could trust me, or how
deeply I might be attached to your interests.—
'Oh, yes,' I answered, with an offhand air: 'did
you not know it before ?' — ' I only knew,' re-
sponded Dame Betty, ' that you had accepted ser-
vice with some lady : but Zsrah did not tell me
who she was. She had doubtless her own good
reasons for what she was doing when she got you
into Ellen Percy's service ; for though she has se-
parated from me and made herself a lady, yet as a
matter of course we continue to row in the same
boat.' — All the while she was thus speaking. Dame
Betty continued to regard me fixedly ; and there-
fore I knew very well that she said those things as
a means of probing my mind, and to ascertain
whether what she was throwing out at random
was substantially correct, — ' Yes,' I answered with
an air of the most perfect sincerity, ' Zarah had
her reasons for getting me, through some indirect
channel, into Miss Percy's service ; and I can as-
sure you,' I added, throwing a look of wicked sig-
nificancy at the dame, ' I keep a very sharp watch
upon Miss Percy's movements,' — 'No doubt, no
doubt,' rejoined Dame Betty, with alow chuckling
expression of her satisfaction. ' Zarah is always
afraid lest Miss Percy should turn suddenly round
upon Captain St. Clair. Besides, Ellen Percy has
somehow or another got hold of secrets which
render her dangerous ; and Zarah trembles for her
own sake and for mine also. Is it not so ?'—
' Ah, dame,' I replied, ' I do not know the motives
which actuated Zarah : all I can say is that the
instructions sho gave to me seemed completely to
tally with everything you have just said.' — All
this while Dame Betty kept eyeing me with the
keenest scrutiny; and as you perceive, my dear
Miss, I was careful to say only just suflicient to
inspire her wit'a the completest confidence in me ;
but I would not give utterance to a single unne-
cessary word, nor appear to know too much of
reasons and motives, for fear lest by a single inad-
vertence I should excite the dame's suspicion,"

" You acted moat wisely, Beda," I said. " And
now pray continue! I am full of impatience : but
do not abridge your narrative — tell it in your own
stylo— and give me every particular."

" Dame Betty was evidently full of confidence
in me," continued Beda; "and it was likewise
apparent enough to my comprehension that she
flattered herself she had completely fathomed all
Zarah's motives in getting me into your service.

She proceeded to say, ' I saw Miss Percy and your-
self alight from a hackney-fly at the hotel : where
did you come from ?' — ' From Manchester,' I
readily answered. — 'And what has your mistress
been doing there ?' inquired Dame Betty. —
• Merely visiting the manager of the local theatre,'
I rejoined, ' with a view, I suppose, to a dramatic
engagement.* — ' And do you like Miss Percy ?'
asked the dame, now fixing her eyes upon my
countenance with even a still more penetrating
keenness than hitherto. — 'I am perfectly indif-
ferent with regard to her,' I answered: 'perhaps
if I did not know that she was an enemy of your's
and Zarah's, I might be inclined to like her a
little : but as it is, the feeling is rather otherwise.'
— ' Could you possibly absent yourself for a few
hours ?' inquired Dame Betty, ' without the know-
ledge of your mistress ?' — ' Oh, yes, to be sure,' I
readily exclaimed : ' though perhaps it would be
better that I should first run into the hotel and
invent some excuse for so absenting myself.' — 'If
this is not absolutely necessary,' rejoined the dame,
' I had much rather you should come with me at
once. I want to speak to you particularly; we
cannot talk in the streets ; and there is no place
in Birmingham to which I can conduct you for
the business that I have in hand.'— ' Well, then,'
I at once answered, ' I can come with you imme-
diately. Miss Percy is tired with her journey;
she will go to bed early ; and she never asks for
me of an evening.' — 'Come, then,' said the old
woman : and she began leading the way through
the streets of the town. You understand, my
dear Miss, why I so promptly agreed to go with
her. I was afraid that if I first of all insisted on
the necessity of returning to the hotel, a suspicion
might be excited in her mind ; she would possibly
be put upon her guard ; and she might either deal
more reservedly with me, or else change her mind
and reject my serrices altogether. I of course
knew that my absence for several hours would
render you uneasy: but still I thought it better
that you should endure the temporary vexation of
suspense than that I should lose the opportunity
of penetrating into whatsoever fresh designs the
vile old dame might be harbouring against your
peace and security."

" You did well, Beda," I said : " you acted for
the best— and your conduct was marked by the
strictest policy and prudence, as well as by the
most friendly considerations towards myself. And
now proceed."

" Dame Betty led me to a little public-house,
quite on the outskirts of the town ; and there she
had a covered cart and an old horse waiting for her.
The equipage was a wretched, mean, and shabby
one, as you may easily suppose — just such as many
travelling gipsies are accustomed to use. The
horse was soon harnessed : we took our seats in
the cart, — Dame Betty performing the functions
of driver. We must have been pretty nearly two
hours in performing the dozen miles or so which
lay before us until the dame's cottage was
reached. A young woman, belonging to the
dame's tribe, received us at the door. This was
the female who supplied my place when I was in-
troduced, Miss, into your service. The dame led
me into the parlour ; and when the young woman
had put up the cart and horse in the old stable ad-
joining, the dame told her that she might go to bed,

as her services were not required any more for the
night. Then Dame Betty produced provisions
and liquor: but she did not eat or drink much,
for she was intent on opening her designs to me ;
— and as for myself, I partook not at all of the pro-
vender set upon the table. She again questioned
me in respect to my feelings towards yourself. I
replied in a strain similar to that in which I had
previously spoken of you ; and as if quite in a
casual manner, I threw out hints that I was be-
coming wearied of your service, that I hoped
Zarah would soon withdraw me from it, for that I
longed to be my own mistress, to get out into the
open country and to lead the free unrestrained
happy life of a gipsy. "Without appearing to pay
any particular attention to the dame's looks, I
nevertheless furtively watched the effect which
these words produced; and I saw that they had
accomplished my purpose by fully confirming the
trust she was previously disposed to place in me.
Yet she was evidently cautious in making her ap-
proaches towards the final development of her
views : she no doubt fancied that though my mind
was plastic enough in her hands, yet that she
must not proceed too rudely nor abruptly in mo.
delling it to her aims, for fear lest she should
shock any latent good principle still remaining
within me. Therefore she began to speak insidi-
ously and darkly relative to yourself: I threw out
an occasional word to give her just sufficient en-
couragement to proceed; and in a little while she
went on with a gradual abandonment of restraint
and reserve. She told me that I could not pos-
sibly hope to be freed from the shackles of my
present service so long as you remained in exist-
ence ; she likewise indirectly strove to work upon
my fears by telling me that if you were suddenly
to adopt an overt hostile attitude towards those
whom you knew to be your enemies, your ven-
geance would include me within its circle, inas-
much as you could not possibly fail to discover
that I was an agent of those enemies 'and a spy
upon your actions. At last she came to tho

point and here, my sweet mistress, I shudder

to repeat the dreadful things "

" I understand you, Beda !" I said, shuddering
also. "The vile infamous wretch proclaimed the
expediency, for many reasons, of putting me out
of existence !"

" Yes, Miss— it was so," responded Beda. " I
seemed to fall into her views : I first hesitated
sufficiently to give a better colouring to my fi.nal
assent ; and the wicked woman was completely
duped by the course which I adopted. She then
produced the little box containing the brown
lozenges ; and she bade me dissolve one daily in
your coffee or tea, whichsoever you might partake
of — or in your soup— or in whatsoever article of
food might be convenient for the purpose. la
short, from the explanations she gave me, I found
that those seeming coffee-berries contained a slow
poison— a poison which was inevitable ia its
effects, but which produced no outward symptoms
that could lead even the most skilful physician to
suspect its inward presence. As I listened to
these frightful revealings, most carefully control-
ling my emotions the while, several thoughts
flashed through my brain. There was this woman
in possession of a fearful weapon which dealt death
slowly, insidiously, imperceptibly, and iu a way to

defy suspicion. If after a time she found that I
ho4 failed to administer it unto jou, she might
dcrise other means to introduce the poison into
ycur food. I had somewhere read or heard
that there is an antidote for every poison ; and I
was resolved, if possible, to obtain the means of
neutralizing this one, and therefore said to her,
' Tour instructions, Dame Betty, should be followed
out ; but I am afraid that it will be scarcely pos-
sible for me to accomplish them without danger to
myself. Miss Percy is in the habit of taking her
breakfast in her chamber ; and when she has
finished, I sit down there to my own meal. If I
were to refuse, for instance, to drink the coffee of
which she had been partaking, it would excite sus-
picion.'— I devised other pretexts likewise in fur-
therance of the end which I had in view. — ' This
matter is easily settled,' said the dame; and pro-
ducing from a cupboard another tin box, she showed
me these pink-tinted lozenges. 'Here,' she con-
tinued, ' is an antidote for every possible poison,
with the one exception of prussic acid. But for
every venom which is not instantaneous in its
effects, each of these lozenges contains a neu-
tralizing ingredient. Fear not therefore to carry
out my instructions. If there be death in one
box, there is assuredly life in the other. I will
convince you. Half-a-dozen of these brown
lozenges would produce death in a few hours.
See ! I will eat double that quantity.' — Having
thus spoken, the vile hag crammed a dozen of the
brown lozenges into her mouth, and sat for a few
minutes crunching and sucking them. Then she
went through the same process with an equal
number of the pink lozenges; and when she had
finished, she said with a diabolical chuckle, ' Now,
my dear Beda, do you believe me?' — ' I never
doubted you,' I responded: 'I only wished to
make myself safe ; and since you have given me
the antidote for my own use, I have no farther
objection to administer the bane as you have
directed.' — The old woman returned to her cup-
board; and thence she produced two small canisters,
from the respective contents of which she filled up
the two tin boxes from which she bad taken
the lozenges that she herself had eaten. She gave
me those boxes ; and she then went forth to pre-
pare the old cart again to bring me back to Bir-
mingham. The horse was however so tired that
he went but slowly; and thus, what with the hours
lost in these journeys to and fro, and the length of
time I was detained at the cottage, I did not reach
the hotel until three o'clock this morning, as I have
already told you. "When parting from Dame
Betty, I promised, with an air of the most perfect
sincerity, to fulfil all her instructions; and she
said to me with a significant look, 'There are
sixty brown lozenges in the tin box : there are as
many pink ones. In leas than two months from
the present time I shall expect to hear of the
death of Miss Percy !'— Oh, my dear mistress, it
was with difficulty I could prevent myself from
flying like a tigress at the throat of the vile hag,
shrieking for assistance, and consigning her to the
custody of the law's officials. It required a pre-
terhuman power on my part to perform a last act
of dissimulation, and to assure her that as far as it
lay with me her design should be executed. And
thus we separated."
Beda's eyes had flashed forth vivid lightnings

as she gave utterance to those concluding ejacula-
tions which expressed so much abhorrence towards
the infamous woman : and I again embraced her
for the friendship which she had displayed on my
account, — renewing likewise my compliments for
the politic course which she had adopted.

" But now, Beda," I said, reverting to a topic
I which had been before touched upon between us;
I " the detestable wickedness of my enemies has
, reached a point at which it is impossible for me to
I remain any longer quiescent. Everything must bo
! made known — the aid of the law must be invoked

! against these fiends in human form But you

j look deeply distressed, Beda F"

" I have sworn to Zarah— sworn in the most

! solemn and sacred manner," replied the young girl,

I with looks and accents half-mournful, half-entreat-

! ing, " that in whatsover I might do to succour you

j — in whatsoever I may be enabled to accomplish

I with a view of shielding and protecting you — I

' will carefully guard against any exposure. ile-

thinks you have a friendship for Zarah — from what

she said to mc she must have some little claims

upon your gratitude — and though 1 myself, dear

Miss, should be unwilling to assert any such claim

on my own part, because I would cheerfully make

any sacrifice of feeling — yes, even the sacrifice of

life itself to insure your safety or to fulfil your

wishes — jet, on the other hand "

"Enough, Beda!" I exclaimed. "After the
manner in which you have just been speak-
ing to me — and still more after the manner
in which you have acted towards me, it is
impossible that I can do anything to give you
pain ! Besides, I must not make you violate an
oath ; and in respect to Zarah, 'tis true that I am
under the deepest obligations to her — I could not
possibly prove ungrateful: — whatever her motives
may be I shall not pause to inquire even through
the medium of conjecture — I am bound to respect
them."

"And then too," observed Beda, solemnly,
" amidst the sublime truths which you yourself,
dear Miss, have taught me, is there not one which
is perhaps more deeply impressed upon my mind
than any other ?— the one which teaches me that
innocence and virtue must triumph in the long
run over the machinations of the wicked — that the
latter will be in the end discomfited— and that they
will sooner or later trip and fall over the rugged-
ness of the tortuous paths which they themselves
have made."

"Yes, Beda— this is true," I answered, gazing
upon her with affectionate interest and adiniration
as there seemed to be a divine light in her eyes
while she thus spoke ; and that holy lustre shed its
beams over her transcendantly beautiful coun-
tenance.

" Besides," she continued, now reverting to more
worldly and more matter-of-fact concerns, " there
is one immense point gained from the incidents
of the past night. Tou possess an antidote for
almost every poison ; and there are two ways in
which this fact is to be looked upon as a subject
for self-gratulation. In the first place, it must in
the course of time become apparent to your ene-
mies that I have failed, for some reason or another,
to administer the poison : if they suspect my fide-
lity towards them, they may seek other means of
accomplishing the same end ; but the antidote is in

254

EliLEW PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

your possession ! In the second place, if they do
believe that I have proven faithless to them, they
may suppose likewise that I have given you this
antidote ; and in that case they will deem it useless
to renew this fearful phase of their machinations.
Thus, in every way, a manifest advantage has been
gained on our side — while a proportionate defeat
will have been experienced on the other."

"True, Beda!" I said: and I found that I had
as much reason to admire the intelligence as to ap-
preciate the friendship and the fidelity of this
young creature : so that I was more than ever re-
joiced at having obeyed the impulse which in the
first instance led me to take her into my service ;
and a secret voice appeared to whisper in my soul
that I was now reaping a reward for a good deed
which I had performed.

I bade Beda dispose of the box of poisoned
lozenges in a manner which should place them be-
yond the reach of human hands ; and I myself took
possession of the pink ones constituting the anti-
dote. I endeavoured to persuade her to remain a
few hours longer in bed after the fatigue she had
experienced on the preceding night ; but she de-
clared that she was completely refreshed by the
slumber she had already enjoyed: she accordingly
rose and performed her toilet. I took an oppor-
tunity during breakfast-time of saying something
to the waiter which should prevent him from enter-
taining any opinion prejudicial to Beda's character
on account of her protracted absence from the
hotel at such unseemly hours ; and the man was
satisfied by the voluntary explanation which I thus
threw out. I should observe that much though I
had sufi'ered from anxiety and suspense for so many
long hours on account of Beda's disappearance —
and much though I had feared that the efiect would
be prejudicial to my health — yet the joy experienced
at her return had produced a most salutary reac-
tion in me, and I was fully prepared for my jour-
ney to the metropolis.

Attended by Beda, I proceeded to the railway-
station ; and as I chose to keep her with me while
travelling, I required two places in a first-class
carriage. We were consigned to a compartment
in which there was only one other passenger be-
sides ourselves : and this was an elderly man of
somewhat haughty and aristocratic appearance.
Just before the train started, a domestic in a hand-
some livery came up to the window, and with a
respectful touch of his hat inquired " whether his
lordship had any additional instructions to give
him ?"

The reply was in the negative : the lacquey re-
tired ; the steam-whistle sent its shrill note shriek-
ing and screaming through the immense station—
the train rolled on — and we were soon proceeding
with the accustomed velocity of " an express "
towards the capital.

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE EAILWAT TRAIN.

From the manner in which the lacquey had
addri'ssed our aristocratic-looking fellow-traveller,
it wiis evident that he was a nobleman. He was
perhaps about sixty years of age— of a very florid

complexion, with a short neck, and altogether an
apoplectic appearance : yet in spite thereof there
was a certain air of distinction about him, as I
have already said, which prevented me from being
at all surprised on learning that he was of patri-
cian rank. For a few moments after we had taken
our seats, he surveyed Beda with considerable at-
tention and interest: but he was unable to be-
hold much of my countenance — for I had my veil
down. The nobleman spoke not a word ; and soon
after the train started he drew forth from his
pocket a newspaper : but every now and then I
observed that he looked over it to take another
survey of Beda — though I should add that there
was nothing rude nor insolent in the mute atten-
tion which he bestowed upon her.

We had proceeded a considerable distance — and
I knew that we could not be many miles away
from Eugby— when the newspaper glided down
from the nobleman's hands, and a sound which for
an instant I thought to be a moan, came from his
lips. He was lying back in his seat ; and I then
fancied that he had sunk into slumber. But still
there was a floating uneasiness in my mind : I
lifted my veil — I contemplated him earnestly — the
florldness of his complexion had become enhanced
into a fearful redness — and he was slightly moving
as if under the influence of pain.

'•■ My lord," I cried, " is anything the matter ?
— are you unwell ?"

There was no answer ; and I therefore felt con-
vinced that he was stricken by apoplexy.

"Call — shriek — scream from the window!" I
exclaimed to Beda : " agitate your kerchief ! The
train must be stopped !"

Beda hastened to obey me ; but at that instant
the train plunged into a tunnel, through which it
went roaring, crashing, dashing on, with such a
din — the continuous scream of the whistle mingling
with the other deafening sounds — that Beda's
cries were lost in the tremendous noise. There was
a lamp in the roof of the carriage ; and in the
meanwhile I was not idle. I had rushed towards
the nobleman immediately upon comprehending
his perilous position ; and while still giving utter-
ance to my hasty instructions to Beda, I was
tearing ofi" his neckcloth and raising him up to a
more comfortable position. Beda went on scream-
ing and shrieking : but she could not compete
with the shrill cry of the railway whistle; and
though I was dreadfully alarmed lest the unfor-
tunate nobleman should expire before assistance
could possibly be obtained, yet I did not for a
moment lose my presence of mind. I had at
some time or another read just sufiicient of the
treatment of apoplexy in the absence of medical
succour, to know what treatment to adopt. I
kept the nobleman with the head and shoulders
elevated, retaining the former in such a way as to
prevent any sudden bend of the neck : I had
taken off his neckcloth— I unbuttoned his shirt-
collar. The window next to him was at first
closed : but this I let down so as to admit as much
air as possible.

Such was the state of affairs, in side our com-
partment of the railway -carriage, when the train
emerged from the tunnel; and now Beda's screams
and shrieks attracted attention. But in the first
instance it was only the notice of paesengers in
the neighbouring compartments and in the adja-

ELLEN PEKCTJ OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS.

cent carriages which was thus reached : conse-
quently several minutes still elapsed before tha
train could be stepped; — and then there was a
general rush of officials and passengers towards
our compartment. The truth was soon made
known : there fortunately happened to be a medi-
cal gentleman amongst the passengers ; and he at
once gave bis attentions to the nobleman.

My veil was now raised : I found myself recog-
nised by several individuals, although they were
not personally knovirn to me : but when compli-
menting me on the presence of mind which I had
displayed, they addressed me by the name of Miss
TrafFord. The surgeon speedily pronounced that
his lordship might be safely conveyed on to Eugby ;
and ho urged that the train should be set in mo-
tion again with the least possible delay. The
livery servant, who was one of the first to rush
to our compartment, exhibited the utmost anxiety
on behalf of his noble master; and I overheard
ofic of the passengers inquire who his lordship
was ? I then learnt from the answer given by the
domestic, that ho was the Earl of Carshalton —
Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe's father.

The train pursued its way, — the surgeon con-
tinuing to maintain bis lordship in precisely the
same posture as I had previously done. Water,
which had been procured, was poured upon the
patient's head ; and he exhibited signs of revival,
though still remaining unconscious of all that was
passing around him. The domestic had begged
permission to enter the compartment so as to be
in close attendance upon his master ; and I had of
course readily given my assent.

I had now leisure to explain more fully to the
medical gentleman and to his lordship's domestic
all that had occurred, and what I had done to
afford temporary assistance.

"I do not hesitate to declare," exclaimed the
surgeon emphatically, "that to you, Miss Traf-
ford, will his lordship be indebted for his life if he
should recover— as I trust and hope he will. At
all events that he should be alive noto is entirely
owing to your prompt and skilful succour. Had
you displayed less presence of mind— or had you
been ignorant of the requisite treatment to adopt
—the Earl must have perished."

"I may venture to assure Miss Trafford," said
the servant, who was a very civil, well-behaved,
and intelligent man, " of the lasting gratitude of
the noble family whose chief is now indebted to
her for his life. His lordship has been on a visit
to his country-seat near Embledon; and I could
not help noticing yesterday — but still more espe-
cially this morning — that his complexion was more
florid than usual. The colour itself was different,
— and instead of being confined to the cheeks, it
was a flush all over the face. I thought it pecu-
liar : but I certainly had no misgivings of any
serious nature."

The surgeon now intimated that on arriving at
Eugby it would be necessary to convey his lord-
ship to a hotel, where he must be taken the utmost
care of until some of the members of his family
could be fetched from London. The servant ex-
pressed a hope that the medical gentleman would
be enabled to remain at Rugby with the Earl — a
proposition which was.agreed to.

"And you yourself," I said to the domestic,
." may likewise remain in all confidence with your

noblo master : for I promise you that the very in-
stant London is reached, I will proceed forthwith
to Carshalton House and break to her ladyship tho
Countess what has occurred."

The servant expressed his warmest gratitude for
this offer on my part— which was all the more wel-
come to the man inasmuch as it enabled him to
remain with his master instead of entrusting his
lordship to the care of strangers. Ho informed me
that the Countess of Carshalton was in an indiffe-
rent state of health — that she was weak and ner-
vous— and that I must therefore bo guarded in the
manner in which I broke the intelligence to her
ladyship. To this instruction I promised to at-
tend ; and in a few moments afterwards the train
drew up at the Rugby Station.

The Earl of Carshalton, still unconscious of his
position, was carefully removed from the compart-
ment ; and when the train resumed its way, I had
leisure to reflect upon everything that had occurred.
Singular to me appeared the coincidence that I
should have become instrumental in saving the
life of that very nobleman for the forging of whoso
name my unfortunate father had been sentenced to
transportation ! Yet, be it remembered that the
Earl was in no way to blame in that transaction :
he had originally proved a kind and generous
friend to my father — it was his lordship who had
given my sire his incumbency— and it was the
money-lender who had discounted the forged bill,
not the nobleman whose name was forged, that
had 80 inexorably prosecuted my parent. The
reader is already aware that the Earl of Cnrshalton
was the father of Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe— that
young nobleman whose wickedness had blighted
the hopes and happiness of my friend Juliet.

When the train reached London, I informed the
guard and several of the passengers who addressed
me on the subject, that I had undertaken to con-
vey the intelligence of the Earl's illness to the
Countess of Carshalton ; and all possible despatch
was therefore used to get me a cab. While pro-
ceeding with Beda towards Carshalton House at
the West End of the town, I could not help hoping
within my own mind that I should not there en-
counter Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ; for 1 felt that
the very sight of the treacherous young nobleman
would prove most hateful to me. My apprehension
on this head was not fulfilled : Lord Frederick
was out at the time when I arrived at the noblo
mansion ; and I was soon conducted into the pre-
sence of the Countess. I found her ladyship alone :
she was a thin sickly-looking woman, about fifty
years of age — proud, reserved, and distant. I had
sent up the name of Miss Trafford, together with
the announcement that I sought an interview with
her ladyship on most particular business, which did
not however regard myself : so that I at once ob-
tained an audience. She was at first coldly polite j
yet the distance of her manner did not prevent ma
from acquitting myself of my self-imposed task
with all suitable delicacy. The intelligence was
thus gradually broken ; and then I was over-
whelmed with a thousand questions, which her
ladyship put with a nervous vehemence. I was
fortunately enabled to assure her that the medical
man whom I had left in attendance upon tho Earl
had given every hope of a favourable issue : and
as I was compelled to detail all the circumstaucca
of the affair, her ladyship learnt how I had ren-

ELiEX PEKCT; ok, THE MEMOIKS OF A>- ACTEESS.

dered a certaia degree of succour. She was now | at once perceived that she remained in ignorance
all gratitude and affability towards me; and as I of the cause of my swoon as well^ as of my present
had taken the precaution, before I left the rail- distress: and I glanced rapidly upon the sofa
wav-btation, of desiring that a special train should | and the floor to see whether the letter and the
be "got in Readiness, the Countess was enabled to - envelope were still where I must hare dropped
depart with the least possible delay. | them. But no ! they met not my eyesj andBeda

I now proceeded to the Marquis of Campanella's ' at once exclaiaed, " It must hare been sudden in-
mansit>n, which was at no great distance. I had I disposition— I am sure it was : for I fortunately
been exactly a week absent ; and I found letters entered the room just as you had fainted, Miss—
frem Mrs. Xorman, from Mrs. Oldeastle, from and before her ladyship arrived."
Juliet, and from Mary Glentworth. Fortunately I was struck by Beda's words and manner; it
none of these had required any immediate an- j seemed as if she were prompting me to the mode
Bwer ; and thus the delay in replying to them ; of affording an explanation to the Marchioness and
would not appear singular. I was most kindly re- [ giving me to understand that I need not say any-
ceived by the Marquis, the Marchioness, and Bea- j thing about the letter. It therefore naturally
trice— who all expressed their hope that I would i occurred to me that BeJa herself had read it, and
now remain with them for as long a time as pos-' ' that consequently Juliet's secret was now known

Bible. This invitation I accepted, because, as the
reader will recollect, I had left Eiver House on the
pretext of having change of air in the metropolis,
and I thought that I must remain away at leaat
another week before I could with propriety return
to Mrs. Oldcastle's abode. Besides, considering
my recent severe illness, I was anxious to recruit
my strength as much as possible : for notwith-
standing I had suffered so little from the effects of
travelling, I experienced the necessity of repose
and quietude.

On the following day I answered the various
kind letters which I had received from Eamsgate
and from Eiver House ; and I sent to the Earl of
Carshalton's mansion to inquire whether any intel-
ligence had been obtained in respect to his lord-
ship. The answer was completely favourable : in-
formation had been received that morning, and all
danger was entirely past.

Three or four days elapsed ; and one afternoon
I was seated by myself in the drawing-room of the
Marquis of Campanella's mansion, when a small
packet was brought in to me by one of the domes-
tics. It was a little brown paper parcel, which
had arrived by some conveyance — an afternoon-
coach most probably— from Eiver House ; and I
was seized with both alarm and wonder that such
a means of transmitting a letter to me should have
been adopted in anticipation of the ordinary course
of the post. I tore open the packet : it contained
a note from Mrs. Oldeastle — and the contents of
that note were brief but painful indeed. Juliet's
child had expired in the morning, after being
seized with convulsions ; and the poor mother was
distracted. Such an effect did the letter produce
upon me that I fainted upon the sofa. When I
Clime back to consciousness I found poor Beda
weeping on her knees beside me — while the Mar-
chioness of Campanella, who had just returned
from paying some visits, was assisting the faithful
and attached girl to afford me the necessary mi-
nistrations. The tears flowed from my eyes as I
thought of the death of that poor little innocent
whom a month back I had fondled in my arms —
and as I thought likewise of poor Juliet's dis

to her. Concealing my annoyance as well as I
was able, I turned to the Marchioness, thanking
her for her kindness, and assuring her that the
indisposition which had temporarily overpowered
me was now past. I then retired to my own
chamber, followed by Beda.

The instant we were alone together, Beda pro*
duced the envelope and the letter — saying, " I
thought. Miss, the moment I beheld these upon
the carpet, that the note had conveyed some evil
tidings. I knew not whether you would wish them
to be communicated to your friends ; and I there<
fore took a precaution which left you {lee to make
any statement you might think fit."

"And you did not read this note, Beda?" I
said, fixing my eyes penetratingly upon the young
girl's countenance.

" Xo, Miss ! I am incapable of such a thing !"
she exclaimed, a slight flush of indignation ap-
pearing on her countenance ; and that it was the
honest indignation of innocence which felt itself
to be suspected, I was in a moment convinced.

" Beda," I said, embracing the young girl,
" for an instant I wronged you ! Deeply, deeply
do I regret that I should have done so !"

" Ah, dear Miss," responded Beda, pressing my
hand fervently, while the tears stood in her lumi-
nous eyes, " you do not yet understand my cha-
racter. Towards j/ou I am incapable of the
slightest act of perfidy : I should thoroughly and
utterly despise myself if I were guilty of any
meanness in regard to one to whom I am un-
der such deep obligations. But oh ! it is very dif.
ferent when dealing with your enemies. Then
there is no dissimulation which I would not prac-
tise— no hypocrisy for which I should not be com-
petent ! But the Beda who would be thus acting
is a very different Beda from the one that you
have about your person ! In time you will know
me better."

'• I know you thoroughly now, my dear girl !"
I exclaimed, again caressing her affectionately :
" this last act of yours has developed a trait of
your character which proves your integrity and
your high principle, as former deeds have shown

tracted state of mind; for notwithstanding the I your love and devotedness. The letter does in-
circumstances attending the birth of the babe, its I deed contain a piece of intelligence which I do not
young mother had doted on it with the fondest i choose to impart to my friends beneath this roof:

adoration. I it is the death of one in whom I am interested

The Marchioness gently inquired whether any- | But ah I start not, Beda ! it is not he whom you

thing had occurred to distress me— whether I had ' saw at Paisley heaven forbid ! And now leave

received some sudden fright— or whether I had me, my dear girl : I would be alone."

been abruptly attacked with indisposition f I thus I 1 resolved to return to Eiver House on the mur-

BLT.KN PJiKCr; 01!, THE MEJIOIES OP AN ACTKESS.

row, in order to do my beat to console tny poor
fricud Juliet: but as I felt convinced that the
next njorning's post wouM bring me a letter
with further details, I determined to say nothing
in the mean time of ray intention to depart from
London, for fear lest it should be thought by my
friends at the mansion that I had indeed received
afflicting intelligence which had caused my swoon;
and in this case they would consider it strange
that I excluded them from my confidence. As I
had foreseen, the next day's post brought me a
letter from Mrs. Oldcastle, begging me to come
to Juliet if I had not already set off on my return
to Eiver House. With this letter in my hand, at
the breakfast- table, I was enabled to say that my
friend Mrs. Oldcastle was most impatient for mo to
return to her, and that I must therefore depart
without any further delay. The Marquis, the
Marchioness, and Beatrice were very much con-
cerned when they understood that I thus purposed
jSTo. 33.— Elleit Pbect.

[ to quit them: but they fully believed that Mrs.
' Oldcastle had such special claims upon my atten-
I tion as I represented ; and they therefore resigned
I themselves to part from me, exacting the promise
' that I would on a future occasion pass a longer
period with them. They were deeply grateful for
the services which at the time I had been enabled
to render Beatrice ; and they lost no occasion of
i testifying their friendship for me. I should ob-
serve that I saw Lady Cecilia Urban during this
short stay of mine at the Marquis of Campa-
nella's ; and she treated me in the kindest and
most affable manner. I should also mention that
1 had called upon Zarah : but she was temporarily
absent from her lodgings. Of St. Clair and Lady
Lilla Essendine I neither saw nor heard anything:
; but on one occasion I caught a glimpse of Mr. and
Mrs. Parks, in their elegant phaeton, dashing
along the street in which the mansion of the Mar-
quis was Bituated.

258

ELiEN PEKCT; OK, THE MEJIOIEB OF AN ACTEE88.

I had resolved to proceed as far as Kamsgate by
the 6teain-paoket in order that I might see my
faithful Beda safe to her destination with the
Normaus again ; and this time I had not so much
trouble in reconciling her to a temporary separa- |
tion, inasmuch as she saw that I loved her, and i
she was proud of having been taken into my con- |
fidence with regard to my journey to Paisley. It |
was at about four o'clock in the afternoon that the
steam-packet reached Ramsgate, and I found that j
Mr. and .Mrs. Norman were much distressed on i
account of the death of Juliet's child,— not that j
they themselves could have entertained much j
affection for a little being that they had never j
seen, and whose departure from this world might i
for its own sake, uader the ciicumstances, be i
almost regarded as a happy release— but because i
they had seen from the distracted letter which
Juliet herself had penned to them how profoundly
she felt her bereavement. j

And here I cannot help noticing how strong is j
the principle of parental afifection which is inter- |
woven with the soul of woman. A man seems to j
care only for the child that is naturally born unto
him, and whose birth is sanctified by the rites of
marriage : but even then he scarcely develops
any affection for the infant in its earliest days or
weeks, and only when by its thousand little inno-
cent and winning ways the child begins to render
itself interesting. On the other hand, though the
infant be born in shame, the mother loves it from
its very birth— and perhaps all the more too from
the fact that no father's arms are extended to
receive the little stranger. I had seen that Me-
lissa Harrison doated upon her own child, which
was the offspring and the living evidence of her
dishonour. I had now seen the same with my
friend Juliet Norman. These and other similar
cases have led me to the belief that parental affec-
tion is an innate idea with the female sex — whereas
with the opposite one it is not inborn, but merely
acquired.

It was late in the evening when I reafched Elver
House, where I was welcomed by Mrs. Oldcastle
&ni Mary Glentworth— and not the less so by
poor Juliet, who, afflicted though she were, had
every testimonial of love and friendship to lavish
upon me. I found that she did indeed experience
the utmost distress for the loss of her child —
though when we were alone together, she said to
me, " And yet, dearest Ellen, it is all for the best !
for if my babe had lived, I should in a short time
have been compelled to part from it and consign
the sweet innocent to the care of strangers,"

As the child was not baptised, there was no
necessity for formal obsequies; and when the
little ceremony of interment, such as it was, had
been completed, Juliet's mind appeared to become
more easy. Kesignation was taking the place of
the first paroxysm of distress ; and as she thus
acquired fortitude, she became proportionately the
more convinced that it was indeed all for the best.
Mary Glentworth— who still knew her only as
Mrs. Hall— bad been most kind and attentive to
her in her affliction ; so that this amiable young |
lady was now as much beloved by Juliet as she
was by myself.

A fortnight elapsed — at the expiration of which
it became necessary for me and Juliet to think of
rejoining Ms. and Mn. Norman; for their stay at

Eamsgate was drawing to a conclusion. I had a
conversation with Mrs. Oldcastle relative to Mary
Glentworth; and the worthy hidj assured me that
she should feel happy in continuing to afford a
home to the young friend in whom I was so
deeply interested. In another conversation, which
I had with Mary herself, she said that for the
present she should render Mrs, Oldcastle's kind-
ness available until a becoming period of mourn-
ing for her deceased mother had elapsed ; but that
then she should seriously think of the adoption of
other plans. I assured her there was j^lenly of
time to take such matters into consideration ; and
it was agreed between us that we should corre-
spond frequently until we again met.

When the day of separation came, Juliet sought
an opportunity of expressing to her great-aunt
Mrs, Oldcastle the full sense of gratitude which
she experienced for all that lady's considerate and
delicate kindness towards her ; and Mrs. Oldcastle
replied, " If I had not considered you worthy of
my best care and tenderest attention — in short, if
I had not been convincsd that you were entirely
sinned against and in no way sinning — I should
not have treated you thus. Your secret, my dear
girl, is now safe : you may go back into the great
world with as raueh confidence and assurance as
all the circumstances which have happened can
possibly leave behind. I am convinced that your
principles are good ; and as I have long been dis-
abused of the strong prejudices I once entertained
in respect to the stage, you may resume your pro-
fession if such be your taste. I could at once
render you independent thereof if I thought fit :
but I prefer for the present to leave you to your

own exertions though remember, at all times

you may fly to me in any emergency, with the
conviction that so long as you yourself are fault-
less you will bo received with open arms."

To me also Mrs. Oldcastle said many kind things;
and on both of us did she bestow several presents
— not very costly ones certainly — but still as wel-
come to us in the form of friendly testimonials as
if they had been of ten times the value. Wo
affectionately embraced the old lady and Mary
Glentworth; and we took our departure for
Eamsgate. Juliet, being possessed of a vigorous
constitution and robust health, had now com-
pletely recovered all her good looks : indeed me-
thought she seemed handsomer than ever. There
was a slight shade of pensiveness on her counte-
nance: but this only rendered her the more inte-
resting ; and she exerted all her power to resume
her former gaiety, for the sake of her parents and
myself, and likewise to avert suspicion when
coming in contact with the world again. Mr.
and Mrs. Norman, who had not seen her for some
months, were rejoiced to fold her ia their arms
again ; and this delight was enhanced when they
saw how well she was looking, and with what for-
titude she bore the bereavement which had at first
plunged her into such deep affliction. Beda was
happy enough on welcoming me again ; and she
told me that she had received a letter from Wil-
liam Lardner, who had succeeded in obtaining a
berth on board an East Indiaman. She offered to
show me the letter : but I would not accept the
proposition. I told her that I had confidence in
her discretion and prudence ; and that if I had
given her permission to correspond with the young

BtLEy PEECT; OE, THE liEMOIES OV XS ACTEE83.

259

man, it was becauso I entertained that opinion
conoernin? lier. Here was another source of pride
and satisfaction for Beda, — who in one sense was
as artless as a child, though in other respects she
had all the astuteness and readiness of wit which
could have belonged to an experienced woman.

After three or four days' sojourn at Eamsgate —
where tiie fresh breezes tended still more than the
gentler air at River House to renovate the bloom
upon Juliet's cheeks— we all returned to London,
and were once agaia installed in Hunter Street.

CHAPTER XLV.

TJTE EAEL OP CABSIIAITOS.

AiioxGSX the numerous cards which had been left
by visitors ia our absence, and which wo found
upon the drawing-room table when we returned
home, were two which the domestic intimated had
been specially left for myself. These bore the
names of the Earl and Countess of Carsbalton,
Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet were all three
esoited and surprised at thus discovering that Lord
Frederick Eivenscliffd's parents had called upon
me: but Mr. 2forman speedilj remarked, "It is
merely one of those instances of homage which
from high quarters are paid to our dear Ellen's
talents."

This solution of the circumstance satisfied Mrs.
Norman and Juliet; and I did not choose to give
any explanation on the subject : for if I had ia-
fortni'd them of the adventure in the railway train,
I must have mentioned my journey to Paisley —
or at least have stated that I had visited Birming-
ham. It was through a pure feeling of modesty,
and from a dislike to converse on topics personally
interesting to myself alone, that I had hitherto
sail nothing in respect to my engagement to my
cousin Harry Wakefield, and that I now kept
silent relative to our recent meeting.

I conceive! it to be my duty to pay my respects
to the Earl and Countess of Carsbalton : and I had
no disinclination to take this step, inasmuch as I
saw by the fashionable intelligence in a newspaper
that Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe was at the time
in Paris. Accordingly, on the day after our return
to town, I proceeded to Carsbalton House, and
was at once introduced to the drawing-room—
where I found the Earl and Countess. His lord-
ship Avas now completely restored to health ; and
the moment I entered the room he hastened for-
ward, grasping both my hands with an effusion of
the liveliest gratitude. Tiie Countes? welcomed
me with an equal cordiality: they made me sit
between them upon the sofa ; and whatsoever aris-
tocratic pride — which was not a little — marked
their conduct at olher times, was now altogether
banished.

" Miss Tratford," said the Earl, " to you I am
indebted for my life. The surgeon and my own
domestic have made me acquainted with the im-
mensity of the obligation I owe you, far more ex-
plicitly than your own natural modesty would
suffer you to explain it when you were good
enough to call upon the Countess with the intel-
ligence of my illness. I know not how I can tes-
tify my gratitude. Mere words are nothing. But

if there be any service I can render — if there be
any friend in whom you are interested — 1 will
exert myself to the utmost in any task you may
enjoin me. My position gives me considerable
inlluence with the Government "

"Ah!" ejaculated the Countess; "I see Misa
I TrafFord's countenance brightening up ! Yes— it
I is evident we can do something for her ! — and I
shall be so rejoiced ! For do you know, my dear
Miss Trafford, his lordship and I have been won-
dering how we could testify our gratitude; and it
would so delight us to be enabled to give you a
proof of it — though bear in mind that we shall all
the same continue your debtors."

Yes — my countenance had indeed brightened up
from its wonted air of calmness ; for an idea had
flashed into ray mind, and a wild hope had thrill-
ingly taken possession of my heart.

" My lord," I said, " there is indeed a favour
which I could ask of you, if it bo not too great—
a favour which would leave me immeasurably your
debtor "

" Name it, Miss Trafford !" both the Countess
and himself ejaculated as if in the same breath.

" I scarcely know how to frame my request," I
responded, now hesitating and suddenly seized
with confusion. "But Oh, my lord !— and you
too, my lady — listen to a secret which I have to
reveal to you ! My real name is not Traf-
ford "

" We have heard it whispered," said the
Countess, — " I know not exactly where — that it
is merely a pseudonym according to a fashion by
no means unusual in the dramatic world— but that
your real name is Percy."

" It is," I rejoined : and I felt the blood rush-
ing to my cheeks as I went on to say, " And does
not the name of Percj/, my lord, remind you of
some one whom in earlier years you knew and
befriended F"

" Good heavens !" ejaculated the Earl. " What !
Percy the clergyman ?"

"' The same, my lord," I answered, with the
blushes deepening on my cheeks : and Oh ! that I
should have felt that blush glowing and burning
there on account of the author'of my being!

" But what do you mean ?" inquired the Earl
kindly. " Is it possible that any connexion sub-
sists between yourself and that unfortunate man
whom you have named ?"

" Speak, my dear girl," whispered the Countess.
" Do not be afraid. We are your friends."

" That unfortunate man," I said, with a con-
vulsive sob, "is my own father !"

"Your father !" ejaculated the Earl : and then
both he and the Countess surveyed me with
illimitable compassion.

" Yes — he is my father," I continued : " and
he lives — you know that he is alive, my lord ! — you
yourself saw him not very long ago in London I"

" It is true," rejoined the Earl of Carsbalton;
" and I do not bear the unfortunate man any
ill-will. On the contrary, Miss Percy, now that
I know he is so nearly connected with yourself, if
there be anything I can possibly do "

" My lord," I said entreatingly, " you can pro-
cure his pardon— you possess influence with the
Gjvernment — you may become the means of re-
storing him in safety to his own native country, if
I nut to society itself!"

260

EllES PEUCT ; OE, THE MZIIOIKS OF AN ACTHESS.

My
peoal

" Anjthing that lies in my power would I do
to serve you. Miss Percy," eaid the Earl : " but
there is one circumstance "

" Alas, I know what you mean, my lord
unhappy father flod from the far-off
colony "

" It is this that constitutes the only difficulty,"
remarked Lord Carshalton, in a musing manner.
" If the whole affair were to remain private — and
if your father would content himself with having
his free pardon granted, but that it should not be
paraded in the newspapers, it would be altogether
different. I however presume his object would
be to give publicity to the fact j and this would
call down upon the Government such animadver-
sion on the part of the liberal press, that I fear
the Secretary of State would hardly venture to
run such a risk by granting such a boon."

If I had not interrupted this speech almost at
the very outset, it was because hope was again so
vividly excited within me that my emotions choked
the power of utterance. At length I said, in a
tone of fervid and grateful enthusiasm, " Oh, my
lord ! there is no difficulty ! Secrecy is above a!l
things to be desired : whereas, on the other hand,
the publicity of the act would almost disincline
me to behold it accomplished at all. If it be pos-
sible to procure this pardon for my unfortunate
father, it would at least enable him to return in
safety to England — without the fear "

" Enough, Miss Percy !" said the Earl of Car-
shalton : " consider this as good as done. In a
few days you shall receive your father's pardon.
The Countess and myself will respect your secret ;
and never from our lips shall it go forth to the
world — no, not even to our own children."

I expressed my warmest thanks for the promise
held out and the assurances thus given to me;
and when I had recovered from the almost over-
powering effect of the joyous emotions which were
agitating in my soul, I rose to take my departure.
But the Earl and Countess insisted on keeping me
with them a little longer : luncheon was served up
— and we discoursed on a variety of subjects.

" By the bye," said the Earl of Carshalton, after
a brief pause in the conversation, " I could not
help noticing that sweetly interesting attendant of
your's who travelled with you on the occasion
■when you rendered me the important service for
which I am so deeply grateful. I could not help
looking at that young girl— I hope that neither
you nor she thought mo rude : but there was a
certain reason "

" The truth is, my dear Miss Percy," said the
Countess, "his lordship has before told me how
interested he was in that beautiful little maid of
your's. It struck him that she was of gipsy origin
— or at least that there was Zingari blood in her
veins ; and %oe" she added in a graver tone, " have
the best possible reason to believe that if amongst
the gipsies there are bad qualities, so on the other
hand there are good ones."

"Yes," I answered ; " his lordship was right : —
that interesting dependant of mine is of gipsy
origin."

" I will tell you, Miss Percy," continued the
Countess, " why both his lordship and myself are
always interested when we behold a gipsy — and
we make it a rule never to suffer one to pass us
without affording some proof of this interest, which

indeed takes the form of gratitude. Our son Lord
Frederick, when a child, was stolen from his nurse
— we were staying then at our country-seat near

E cnbledon "

" Ah !" I ejaculated, as an idea flashed to my
mind : " this is indeed most singular ! Methinks
I can continue the narrative which your ladyship
has commenced. The stolen child was restored to
you: and you generously allowed an annuity to
the gipsies who afforded you this happiness."

" True, Miss Percy !" cried the Countess. " But
how came you acquainted with an incident of
which his lordship and myself have so rarely spoken
except within the circle of our own family ?''

" I learnt that tale from the lips of the little
maiden whose appearance so much interested your
lordship : for she," I continued, " is the daughter
of those persons who restored jour child and to
whom you allowed an annuity."

"This is indeed most remarkable!" exclaimed
the Earl of Carshalton. "The name of that man
who restored us our child, was Robinson."

" And my youthful dependant's name is Beda
Robinson," I answered. " Aided by the annuity
which your lordship allowed, her parents were
enabled to live in what may be termed a respect*
able manner for gipsy-people. From all that I
have heard relative to them, they were honest and

upright "

" But if I had known where to find their
daughter," exclaimed the Earl, " I would have con-
tinued that same annuity to her. It was but
twenty pounds a year- it used to be paid in half-
yearly portions — my steward at Embledon Park
was entrusted with this duty — and I think it was
about six or seven years ago that Robinson ceased
to call for his stipend."

" It was at about that time he and his wife
died," I responded. " They were cut off suddenly,
by some malignant fever, within two or three days
of cue another ; and Beda was removed to another
place the instant the malady developed itself, for
fear that she should catch it. I have heard all
these particulars from Beda's own lips ; and from
the details which I have thus gathered, it is to be
presumed that her father and mother must have
been bo suddenly prostrated by the deadly malady
as to incapacitate them from making on their
daughter's behalf a revelation which might have
proved serviceable to her. All she knows is that
her parents received an annuity from some rich
personages : but she is in complete ignorance of
the name of the Earl of Carshalton in connexion
with that bounty."

"The obligation under which we lay to her
parents was so great," rejoined the nobleman,
" that we should cheerfully have continued the
annuity to their daughter. Indeed, when I learnt
that Robinson had suddenly ceased to call for his
money, I instructed my steward to make all pos-
sible inquiries concerning him : but these were •i
no avail. I need not now ask whether the
daughter of those gipsies is a deserving girl : it is
sufficient that she is in your service. Miss Percy,
to convince me of her merit. I am now prepared
to do for her whatever you may recommend.
Shall I continue the annuity?"

" Slie requires it not, my lord," I answered:
" she is well provided for in my service. Indeed
she is so faithful and affectionate, that I have

ELLESf PEBCV; OE, XHK MEMOIRS OF A^f .LCIEESS.

261

every reason to treat her as a friend rather than
as a menial ; and I shall never lose sight of
her."

The Earl reflected for a few moments ; and he
then said, " Leave this matter to me, Miss Percy.
I shall not forget your young friend Beda."

I now took my leave of Lord and Lady Car-
shaltoD, infinitely delighted with all that had taken
place during our interview. I proceeded to
Zarah's lodgings in the neighbourhood of the
London University ; and on this occasion I found
her at home. I had not seen her for nearly two
months : it was at the close of June when I had
left Loudon for the vacation— it was now verging
towards the end of August. Exactly sis months
had elapsed since Zarah had separated herself
from her old grandmother Dame Betty, and had
assumed the position of a lady. At the time when
1 left London for River House she had already
made a truly marvellous progress in her various
studies J and I was now prepared to learn that
during those additional two mouths she had pro-
gressed in a proportionate degree. She was de-
lighted to see me : she welcomed me with all the
enthusiasm of the most grateful friendship ; and
she expressed her regret that she should have been
temporarily absent from her dwelling when I called
upon her about three weeks previously, at the time
I was staying with the Campanellas.

"I merely went away for a few days," she ob-
served, " on a visit to a watering-place ; for I had
studied so hard that though of a vigorous consti-
tution and enjoying the most robust health, I
nevertheless experienced the necessity of change of
air."

" Have you seen your grandmother recently ?"
I inquired.

" I have not seen her for several months," she
responded: "but I have every reason to believe
that she is perfectly quiet at her little cottage be-
tween Birmingham and Embledon."

" And what reason have you for this supposi-
tion, Zarah ?" I asked.

" Because I charged the young woman who is
in attendance upon her, to send me an account
of all my grandmother's proceedings," replied
Zarah. "But you, my dear Miss Percy, have
some motive for putting this question ?"

" Yes — I have a motive," I rejoined : " for
either that young woman of whom you speak
proves faitiikss to the instructions which you have
giren her ; or else your grandmother conducts
her proceedings with sj much stealthy caution as
t9 set all espial at defiance."

" What mean you ?" asked Zarah, almost
frightened at the words which had just fallen
from my lips. "Has that wretched old woman
been attempting aught against your peace and

security ? If so " and a dark cloud lowered

upon the duskily handsome countenance of Zarah.

Without any farther preface I proceeded to
relate everything that had occurred at Birming-
ham— how Beda had fallen in with the old dame —
how she had been taken to the cottage— and how
she had received her instructions in respect to the
poisoned lozenges. Zarah listened in deepest
silence, but with looks that indicated all the dis-
gust, horror, shame, and indignation which she
experienced at the vile machinations of her old
grandmother against me.

" Beda is as intelligent as she is trustworthy,"

said Zarah, in a musing strain when I had ceased

1 speaking. "The answers she gave to my wicked,

j infatuated grandmother, when questioned as to

j the circumstances of her entrance into your

I service, were moat shrewd and politic. Oh, that

my grandmother should still continue to lend her-

self to the abominable schemes of your enemies !—

for there can be no doubt in respect to the truth

of your conjecture that Edwin St. Clair " — here

1 Zarah's voice trembled perceptibly — " and Lady

Lilla Esseudiue were the prime movers in this

new scheme of iniquity."

There was a brief pause — at the expiration of
which I said, " It was for your sake, Zarah, that
I yielded to Beda's representations, and forbore
from invoking the aid of the law against those
wretches."

" Ob, you are indeed justified in using harsh
words !" she ejaculated, while an expression of
bitter anguish swept over her countenance. " I
thank you, my dear Miss Percy— a thousand times
do I thank you for once again consenting to avoid
an exposure which would prove so fatal to those
principally concerned, and which would redound
upon others ! And, ah ! if such exposure had
taken place, all that I for the last six months have
been doing, would be utterly thrown away !"

" I do not understand you, Zarah," I observed,
astonished at the remark that had just fallen from
her lips.

" I will presently explain myself," she re-
sponded. "But no!" she abruptly ejaculated:
" I will afford you an opportunity of comprehend-
ing my meaning. Yes — the time is now eorae
when I must take the step that is to decide my
own fate! — that step for which during six long
mouths I have been so assiduously and earnestly
preparing myself ! And if I be successful — as I
hope and trust that I may — Oh ! then, in that
case, rest assured, my dear Miss Percy, that I
shall henceforth exist as a barrier between your-
self and any danger on the part of Edwin St.
Clair !"

There was another pause, during which Zarah
seemed absorbed in her reflections ; while I myself
meditated in wonder and curiosity upon the
strange mysterious words that had been flowing
from her lips.

" You did well to order those poisoned lozenges
to be destroyed," she said, evidently giving sudden
expression to a thought which had just recurred
to her mind. " Unfortunately, my dear friend,"
she continued, " my grandmother possesses a mar-
vellous skill in the compounding of various drugs;
for she has been in Italy and in Egypt— and ia
those countries she learnt the diaboHc art. She
has at times spoken to me of many of her secrets;
and I am thus at no loss to conjecture what must
have been the slow poison which she used in the
lozenges that she gave to Beda for the purpose of
undermining your constitution and carrying you
to a premature grave. That poison is antimony.
By administering infinitesimal yet continuous
doses, the vital powers are gradually sapped— all
the faculties of life itself are impaired — and thus
by degrees the victim sinks out of existence.
Willie such a process is going on, the most skilful
medical attendant would ba baffled — he could not
possibly suspect the presence of this poison, so

263

EIXEW PERCY ; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AK ACTRBSS.

inndioua in its operation and yet so sure in its
fcfTeets! But enough of the fearful subject! I
shudder to think of it— and I feel ashamed to con-
verse upon it, because it is a kinswomaa of mine
\vho wields that fatal and mysteriously striking
weapon !"

"Yes— let us turn the discourse, Zarab," I
said : for I saw that it gave her infinite pain.
" And now tell me about your studies. How do
they progress ? and is there any service which I
can render you?"

" Ah ! it is on this topic that I am now de<
sirous to talk with you," exclaimed Zarah, her
countenance brightening up. " Have you an hour
to spare ?"

"Two, if you please, at your service," I re-
plied.

"Then you shall subji>ct me to a species of
esaraioation !" she ejaculated; "for I can assure
you it is of importance."

Z'lrah then handed me a list of the various
works which she had read in the departments of
history, science, and general literature ; and with-
out any pedantic display, but even with a certain
degree of bashfuluess— though with a most intelli-
gent clearness— she proceeded to aflford me proofs
tliat she had studied those works to considerable
effect. She next sat down to the pinno, and gave
me several specimens of the progress she had made
in the study of music. When this part of the
examination was finished, she produced her port-
folio and exhibited her drawings. I was perfectly
astonished at the skill which these specimens dis-
played, considering that six months back she was
utterly ignorant of the art itself. Then she
showed me some themes and other prose-composi-
tions which she had achieved ; and I read them
with great interest and with increasing wonder- j
ment. Her handwriting was fluent and lady-like \
— the language was perfectly grammatical — in
most instances it was well chosen: the only fault j
which hypercriticism could find with it, was that
in some parts it was a trifle too florid and high,
flown This defect — if a positive defect it were — |
I dclic tely pointed out to Zarah : she at once i
OompreUended my meaning — she saw the justice '
of my strictures ; and under my supervision i
she proceeded to prune down all expletives and i
mitigate the flourishing redundancy of the pas- [
Sfiges complained of. In short, I was perfectly I
surprised at the progress which Zarah bad made !
in every branch of her self-imposed stu iies; and ]
I could scarcely believe that 1 beheld before me I
the same person who about ten months back had ,
flung into the post-chaise, as I was returning !
from Embledon, that ill-spelt letter penned in a [
bold round masculine hand. '

" You must have laboured very hard, Zarah," i
I observed, '•' to have accomplished so much in the '
comparatively brief space of sis months ; for it is
only half a year since you settled yourself in these
lodgings to undertake your self-imposed tasks.
But now tell me what is the meaning of all this ,
mystery. It is evidently connected with the step i
which, as you say, you are about to take— an im- I
portant step too!" |

" In three days hence, my dear friend," she j
responded, " you shall behold the solution of this ,
mystery. Have patience for that period. It is '
my intention to remove tomorrow to other lodg-

ings : I have not as jet q^uite decided where they
are to be; but you shall shortly receive a note
from me, indicating my new abode, and making
an appointment for you to visit me there."

" Which appointment, Zarah, I shall assuredly
keep," was my response : and I then took leave of
her, wondering what could be the mystery of her
conduct for the last six months, and deeply curious
for the solution thereof.

CHAPTER XLVI.

A STEAIfGE SCEKE.

tTtiLiET ]!foEMAN was DOW about to return to the
stage. Perhaps if her own inclinations had been
consulted to a nicety, she would rather have re-
mained in seclusion for a little while longer, until
the full sense of her recent bereavement had worn
off: but a variety of considerations induced her to
seek an engagement at the hands of Mr. Eichards
with the least possible delay. In the first place
she was anxious to avert all suspicion in respect
to her retirement of a few months from the metro-
polis : and this she thought she could best do
by resuming her professional avocation immedi-
ately after her return from her aunt's house. la
the second place her parents regularly spent the
full amount of their salaries ; and therefore what-
soever Juliet might be enabled to earn became a
useful addition to their means : for, as I have al-
ready stated, from my purse they would accept
nothing more than the amount which they con-
sidered to bo a fair and commensurate remunera-
tion for the cost of my residence beneath their
roof. In the third place Juliet had her own
proper pride; and she naturally sought to prove
to Lord Frederick P.avensclifi'f that she was not
thoroughly heart-broken nor crushed by the in-
famous treatment she had experienced at Lis
hands. And finally, Juliet was attached to that
profession in which she had already won no incon-
siderable sh<>re of renown, and in which she was cer-
tain of being- able to obtain a leading position.

Mr. Richards was delighted when he received
an intimation that Miss K'urman was ready to
negoiiate for an engagement; and he proposed
terms so liberal that a bargain was very shortly
concluded. Melissa Harrison, who had hitherto
been the star of the ballet during the temporary
secession of Juliet Norman, was by no means
jealous when she found that our mutual friend
was to resume her former place as the leading
genius in that sphere. Juliet's reappearance upoa
the stage was welcome also to the public, who had
ever regarded her as a special favourite ; for her
handsome couutenance, her fine person, the lady-
like grace which characterized her, the refinement
and the elegance which she introduced into her
practice of the Terpsichorean art— all combined
thus to secure the applause of the beholders.

I have a vivid recollection of that evening of
^list's reappearance. I had performed the part
of Lady Macbeth, and had achieved one of my
most glorious triumphs. I was elated and ia high
spirits ; for there was also in my mind the j lyous
recollection of the Earl of Carshalton's promise to
procure the pardon of my father. I was changing

ELLEN PEHCT; OE, THB MBM0IS8 OP AW ACTRESS.

263

my attire, at the conclusiou ot Sbakspere's tragedy,
when Juliet entered my dressing'-rootn ready ap-
parelled for the ballet; and methought she had
never looked so handsome. She likewise seemed
to anticipate a triumph ; for there was a radiance
in her iHrge deep blue eyes which shed its beams
over that countenance which possessed so fine an
aquiline profile. She seemed to have a nobler
carriage than ever of the long arching neck ; and
ber form had recently taken a richer development
than it was even wont to have— Hebe-like as her
shape always was. Yet the waist preserved its
wasp like thinness; and notwithstanding a luxu-
riance of contours in some respects, her tall figure
displayed all that 8\lphid lightness which was
fitted for the dance. Her dark hair was arranged
in massive bands, and gathered in a Grecian knot
at the back of the well-shaped head. Her rich
full lipe, parting with the smile of anticipated
triumph, revealed the superb teeth : and altogether
it struck me that Juliet Norman had never ap-
peared so strikingly handsome.

Shortly after her entrance into my dressing,
room, Melissa Harrison came thither also; and
she likewise appeared more than usuallj' attrac-
tive. I have already ^aid that she was a hand-
Borae young woman, with a very fine figure : she
was wont to be somewhat sickly-looking —hut for
a considerable time past her health was greatly
improved : indeed I may say it was completely
restored ; and she had a natural colour upon the
cheeks which only rendered it necessary to shed
thereon the slightest hue of an artificial rose.
With two such "stars" to lead the ballet, Mr.
Richards had every reason to be proud as a
manager, and to congratulate himself on the cer-
tainty of reaping a golden harvest. When Juliet
appeared upon the stage, she was welcomed with
a perfect furore of applause ; and she certainly
acquitted herself in a manner which transcended
all her former efforts. The triumph she had ex-
pected to accomplish was thoroughly achieved ;
and after the curtain had fallen, she was loudly
called for— and on being led forward, was enthu-
siasticr.ily applauded.

The third day since my interview with Zarab
arrived ; and as yet I had not received from her
the promised letter to announce the address of her
sew lodgings and to make an appointment for me
to call upon her. I waited at home until past
three o'clock in the afternoon, expecting the ar-
rival of her communication by every post: but
still it came not. I thought that she had perhaps
written and that her letter might possibly have
miscarried : I accordingly proceeded to her lodg-
ings in the neighbourhood of the London Uni-
veisity : but I there learnt that she had removed
the day previously, and the landlady of the house
knew not whither she had gone. I returned to
Hunter Street: the dinner-hour passed away —
and still no letter arrived from Zarah. It was
not one of my evenings for appearing at the
theatre ; and I therefore remained at home, in
anxious expectation of receiving the promised
note. The Normans set o£f at their usual liour
for their professional engagements ; and it was
about eight o'clock when I heard a cab stop oppo-
eiie the house. One of the servants came up to
inform me that a lady desired to speak to me at
once ; and that I mi;^ht know who she was, she

had desired the domestic to intimate that it was
the person from whom I was expecting a letter.
I instantaneously conceived that as Zarah did not
come up-stairs, she wished me to accompany her.
I therefore hastened to my chamber, put on my
bonnet and shawl, and sped down to the cab.

"Can you come with me for an hour?" ehe
hastily asked : and I perceived that her voice was
tremulous with some deep emotion.

"Yes," I answered, at once entering the vehicle.

"Back to the house where you took me up!"
said Zarah to the driver ; " and go quick ! You
shall be well paid ! — My dear Miss Percy," she
continued, addressing herself to me as the cab
rolled rapildy along, "you must have been sur-
prised at not hearing from me according to pro-
mise ?■'

" Both surprised and uneasy," I answered :
'■' for I have been to your former lodgings in
search of you."

" And you received no tidings of me there,"
said Zarah. " No — for there is a certain mystery
in all my proceedings ; and I choose not to gratify
the curiosity of landladies or domestics by afford-
ing them a clue to my movements in a new place
after I have quitted an old one. In respect to the
delay in writing to ycu, it has been occasioned by
my inability to find a particular person until with-
in the hour that is now passing; and this difficulty
I had not foreseen when I gave you that promise.
The person to whom I am alluding, will be at my
lodgings at half-past eight o'clock : we shall havu
time to reach them before he arrives — or at least I
hope so; and then, as in the case of myself and
Luigi, you shall become an unseen witness of the
interview which takes place between us."

"And who is this person, Zarah?" I inquired,
more than ever wondering at the mystery that she
maintained, and marvelling to what object all
these proceedings could possibly tend.

" My dear Miss Percy," she said, without
exactly answering the question, "you are about to
learn the principal secret of my life. That secret;
has placed me iu a position which now compels
me to regard the result of the expected interview
as the decic-ion of my fate. If it be for weal — ac-
cording as I measure the standard of my own hap-
piness— you may perhaps think fit to congratulate
me : but if it be for woe, I am confident that you
will afford me your sympathy."

" In those alternatives, my conduct either way
will prove as you have anticipated. But tell me,
Zarab," I said, " who is this person that you are
about to meet and whom you have experienced
such difliculty in finding?"

"You are courageous, Miss Percy," she an-
swered; "and I believe — I hope— you know me
well enough to be confident that I would sooner
sacrifice my life to render you a service than
accept the most brilliant rewards to do you an in-
jury. Yes, I will tell you who the person is that .
I am about to meet, it is not fair that you
should be taken by surprise, or that you should
even proceed any further without knowing in
whose vicinage you will remain as an unseen wit*
ness. It is Captain St. Clair."

I could hardly repress an ejaculation of mingled
astonishment and annoyance at this announce-,
meut : but the next moment it struck me that
Zarah must have somtj very struug motives for

264

EILEN PEECY; OE, THE MEIIOIUS OF AN ACTEESS.

rendering me the witness of an interview between
herself and that individual. I had the fullest
confidence in the fidelity of her attacbineut to-
\T8rds me; and therefore I resolved to proceed.
Besides, it occurred to me that I should most
assuredly learn fresh secrets relative to St. Clair,
end that the more I knew of his private life the
more completely he would be in my power, and
the greater the number of offensive and defensive
weapons I should be getting into my own hand.
Finally, I was very curious to penetrate all these
mysteries in which Zarah was playing so singular
a part.

" You will come with me ?" she said, after
having allowed a few minutes to elapse for my
meditation.

" Yes," I responded : " I will pursue this ad-
venture to the end."

There was now another interval of silence —
during which, as I contemplated Zarah by the
blaze of light shed from the shops in the West
End streets through which we were passing, I
perceived that she was very handsomely dressed.
Indeed she was fashionably apparelled — but in
a style strictly consistent with good taste, there
being nothing gaudy nor outrageous in her
toilet. She had evidently addressed herself to
some first-rate milliner, to whose discretion and
judgment she had completely abandoned herself in
respect to her raiment. She looked exceedingly
handsome; and the flush of excitement upon her
cheeks glowed through the dusky tint of her com-
plexion. Her long black hair flowed from beneath
an elegant Parisian bonnet; and her large eyes
shone with a stronger lustre than was even their
wont. I saw in the expression of her features that
there was a firm decision to enact a particular
part at the expected interview, and that she hoped
likewise to work it out to a successful issue.

I was still wondering what purpose Zarah could
possibly have in view, when the cab stopped in
front of a house situated in a good street at the
West End of the town. A cabriolet, with its
lighted lamps, which had already stopped there,
had to draw on a little to make way for our own
humbler vehicle; and Zarah hastily said, "St.
Clair has arrived !"

" Then your project of rendering me an unseen
listener," I said, " has failed ?"

"Not so," replied Zarah: "the arrangement
continues as before."

We alighted : she rewarded the cabman with a
liberality which elicited his warmest thanks; and
the front door was opened by a very neatly attired
maid servant. Zarah inquired if a gentleman were
waiting in the front drawing-room ? and the maid
replied in the aflirmative. My gipsy-friend then
led me up a handsome staircase to the first floor,
where she gently opened a door. I entered a room
which was involved in semi-obscurity ; but there
was sufficient light from the windows to show me
that it was a handsomely furnished sitting apart-
ment, having the air of a back drawing-room.
Zarah closed the door upon me as noiselessly as
she had opened it ; and I speedily discovered that
there was a large pair of folding-doors communi-
cating with the front apartment. My gipsy-
friend evidently did not intend to lose any time,
nor expose me to the chance of discovery in my
hiding-placo, by ascending to her own chamber to

make any change in her apparel ; for she proceeded
at once into the front drawing-rootn by means of a
door communicating therewith from the landing.

" 1 am here according to promise, my dear
Zarah," said St. Clair, in a listU'Ss iadift'erent
manner, as if he were addressing himsc4f to some
menial towards whom he might adopt a tone of a
certain insolent familiarity. " And now perhaps
you will have the kindness to tell me what all this
means — why for the last six or seven months you
have disappeared as it were from the world-
why I now find you pranked out in this elegant
style— and why you are the tenant of handsome
apartments,— 3/0K who at one time would have
been contented with a ricketty old caravan or a
tumble-down cottage."

" Have the kindness to be seated. Captain St.
Clair," said Zarah, in a calm voice, which showed
the most perfect confidence in herself, and which
seemed to imply a quiet disdain to take any
notice of the impertinent flippancy of his manner
and observations.

At the same time that she thus spoke, she ad-
vanced towards the folding-doors to draw forward
for her own use a chair which stood against them :
and this action, which could have nothing signiti.
cant in it for St. Clair, nevertheless had a certain
purpose which at once developed itself to me ; for
by the removal of the chair one of the leaves of
the folding-doors opened to the extent of about an
inch, thus enabling me to listen with all the
greater facility to whatsoever conversation might
take place.

" You certainly look remarkably well, Zarah,"
continued St. Clair, " in that fashionable toilet of
your's : but permit a friend to observe that such
an apparel, and such a mode of life as this which
you seem to be leading, are rather inconsistent
with the want of those graces of manner — those
mental accomplishments, which constitute true
gentility."

"And do you find, Captain St. Clair," asked
Zarah, in a really most lady-like tone, " that I am
so completely deficient in these respects ?"

" On my soul, Zarah, I can't make you out ?"
ejaculated St. Clair. " You do not seem to be the
same Zarah that I used to know. If I had been
drinking I should think that my eyes were de-
ceiving me : but being in possession of m v sober
senses, I confess that I am astonished. Yes —
truly, the more I look at you, the more do you
seem altered. Why, what on earth does it all
mean ? That gesture of your's is far from inele-
gant that posture becomes you and as I

am a living man ! you seem as if you had never
worn anything else but pink bonnets from Paris
and silk dresses made up by the Court milliner.
What the deuce does it all mean, Zarah ?"

" It means. Captain St. Clair," she answered,
" that I have studied to work this improvement in
myself. You remember that some six or seven
months back you made me a present of a bank-
note "

" For five hundred pounds," added St. Clair
carelessly. "But what of that? I grant you
that with a portion of it you might purchase the
elegant toilet which you wear, and that it would
for a long time enable you to li^e in such apart-
ments as these. But you canaot buy refinement
of manner with gold ; and though you may have

JULIET NOroiAN.

a piano, for instauce, stuck up in that recess, I
Vfiii defy you to touch a note of it tunefully !"

Without answering a syllable, Zarah rose from
her seat, proceeded to the piano, placed herself
there, and commenced the most difficult piece of
music of which she had rendered herself the mis-
tress. At first I could not prevent myself from
trembling — for much I feared lest she should be
nervous and thus fail of achieving the success at
which she aimeJ in this department of her
studies. But my apprehension soon wore oflf, as 1
found that she progressed with the most perfect
accuracy : her execution was characterized by taste
and skill; and not a false note jarred upon the
ear. I could even discern that to the very flow of
harmony which she evoked from the instrument,
she imparted as it were some of the enthusiasm
that was in her own soul ; and thus she gave
greater effect to the charm of the music itself. 1
longed to peep forth to snatch a glimpse of St.
No. 3i. — Ellen Peecy.

Clair's countenance, so as to ascertain what he
thought of this demonstration of Zarah's accom-
plishment: but I dared not risk aught that should
tend to the discovery of my presence there. I
may here observe that I always experienced a cold
creeping horror, when finding myself in the
neighbourhood of that man, or when brought in
contact with him:— at least such had been my
feeling ever since I had begun to suspect that he
had been guilty of crimes the bare idea of which was
only too well calculated to send a shudder along
all my nerves and a glacial chill sweeping through
the very blood itself. But now, for the time-
being, this disagreeable sensation was absorbed in
the charm of Zarah's music, and in the glow of
pleasure which I experienced at her success.

"Oq my soul !" exclaimed St. Clair, as the last
sounds of the harmony died away vibratingly
through the room, " you astonish me, Zarah !"—
and yet methought there was a cartaiu slight

266

ELLBIf PBECT; OB, THE MBMOIRS OP AN A0TEB83

under-current of supercilious scorn and contempt
in bis accents. "But, after all, one may have a
natural taste for music; and iu that case a fe*
guineas bestowed upon a skilful teacher will lead
to such a result as that of which you have just
given me a sp-cimen. Have you ever heard of
such a thing' as cramming young men to pass their
examinations at the universities or public schools ?
There is such a system, I can assure you; an.l I
now begin to think that it can as readily be applied
to the art of music as to Latin, Greek, or mathe-
matics."

"There are a number of music-books," re-
sponded ZArah, in that same quiet tone in which
fhe had from the first been speaking : '"' and if it
should suit TOUT fancy to indicate any particular
piece "

"' I have really a very great mind to put you to
the test, Zarah," interrupted St. Clair; "for this
scene is infinitely amusing; and though I cannot
for my life understand the aim of it, yet I am
■willing enough to prolong it, as I have nothing
better to do for an Lour or so."

St. Clair rose from bis seat; and now I did
Tonture to take a peep from my hiding-place. I
saw that he bad approached the pile of music-
books which Zarah had indicated: and he had
taken one up in his hand. He was elegantly
dressed ia evening costume. His countenance,
usually pale, had the slightest ll.u3h upon the
cheeks — either from the effect of wine (despite
his previous disavowal of having been drinking)
or else from the excitement of the present scene :
but his forehead retained all that alabaster polish
which seemed to render it the throne of a high

order of intellect though heavens ! how at

times perverted ! He no longer wore a mous-
tache ; and its absence fully revealed that npper
lip with its haughty expression. His light bro^vn
hair was arranged in rich clustering curls; and
his costume set off the symmetry of his form to
the fullest advantage. It was a pity to gaze upon
such a perfect specimen of masculine beauty, and
be compelled to recoil in horror from the blackness
of the heart which that fair mask concealed. It
was as if a traveller throug'a the fervid regions of
Hindostan, came within view of a temple of most
exquisite architecture, all the details being iu
perfect harmony, and all the external beauty of
the edifice calculated to convey the most agreeable
impression to the mind, were it not for the know-
ledge that the temple did but enshrine an idol of
the most repulsive form and revolting hideous
ness.

But let me return to the thread of my story.
St. Clair, as I have said, took up one of the music-
books; and having for a few moments turned over
the leaves, he selected a piece, exclaiming, " !N"ow
Zarab, if there be anything more than a mere
parrot like attainment in the display you have
just made, you will try your hand at this. My
own taste in music is not altogether slight ; and
therefore I warn you against making an exhibi-
tion that may evoke peals of laughter from my
lips."

Zarah said nothing : bat she resumed her seat
at the piano; and at the very first notes I could
easily perceive that she was completely self-
p-ssessed, I'ull of cjulideuce, and having all her
presence of mind about her. Her success was

therefore as great as in the former instance ; and
when she had finished, St. Clair, throwing himself
back aijain into his sea?, said, " Well, my dear
Zarah, this is uncommonly to your credit : but I
am as much as ever at a lass to understand your
object and purpose in seeking such an accomplish-
ment."

'•'Every soul may have its ambition," was
Zarah's calm response, " You aspire to shine in
the senate ; and it is fortunate for you that you
were born a gentleman. By means of birth and
education you found two-thirds of the difliculties
already surmounted when you resolved to climb
the ladder. With me it is diflferent. In the
working out of my own ambition, I had to com-
mence from the very beginning— to overcome the
disadvantages of obscure birth and an almost
utteilj neglected education. Thus, iu aspiring to
make myself a laly "

" A lady ?" echoed St. Clair : and nothing
could exceed the scornfulncss of the accents in
which he spoke, — a scornfulness which was pro-
longed with the most withering effect in the laugh
that rolled forth in a mocking harmony from his
lips.

I thought that Zirah would now assuredly givo
vent to an outburst of fury and indignation : for
after all the paius she had taken, and the arduous
labours she had endured to improve her mind and
her manners, the taunt implied by St. Clair's con-
duct was most insuffc^rably cruel. But I was
mistaken. It was in the same placid patient
tone as before that she said, " You may laugh.
Captain St. Chir : but the very loftiness of your
own ambition should render you more generoosia
viewing my far more puny and insignificant one."

'•'Do you know, Zarah," he responded, "that
this scene is most irresistibly amusing ? But if you
mean me to take it seriously, be it so. In that
case I must consider myself as the audience at a
drair.a, and I must play the part of critic. In
the exercise of these functions, therefore, suffer
me to observe that though you exhibit a certain
tastefulness of toilet, thanks to your milliner !— a
certain proficiency in music, thanks to some skilful
professor !— a certain genteel choice of language
and a certain smoothness of manner, thanks to
your quick intelligence which has rendered you
imitatively expert ! — yet all these things do not
constitute the Jady. We will put the matter of
birth cut of the question — because, as society ia
constituted, if a gentleman marries his cook-
wench, ho makes her a lady, at least in name.
Bat to be a real lady, Zarab, in the proper accep-
tation of the term, you must have more accota-
plishments than that of a mere jingling on the
piano. You must write a genteel fluent hand ;
whereas, if my recollection serves me, your's pro*
duces the impression of having been written by a
schoolboy with the point of a skewer ; — and par-
don me for adding, your orthography as well as
your use of capitals is the most wondrous cali-
graphic mosaic- work that ever I had the misfor-
tune to behold."

" Doubtless this long critiqiu of your'?. Cap.
tain St. Clair," said Zarah, with a tone that struck
me as if she were smiling with arch good-humour,
" would read even better than it s 'Uuds orally.
Let us see. Have p:itience for a few moments—
and I will commit it to paper."

ELIEBT FBBCT; OB, THE MESIOIBS OP AN ACIBESS.

a87

" Take your time," observed St. Clair, again
witli a certain superciliousness in hia accents, " 1
am r.ot the least hurried— and I repeat, the whole
Bcono is inGuitcly diverting."

There was now an interval of silence for a few
minutes; and as I again ventured to peep from
my Liuing-place, I saw that Zarah was writing —
while St. Clair, lounging back in his seat, was con-
templating her with the half-careless air of fashion-
able indolence.

"!N"ow see how it reads," said Zarah: and she
handed hiui the paper on which she had been
writing.

" Well, I must confess the penmanship defies
all criticism," remarked St. Clair : " but let us
look at the spelling. I vow and protest that I
am more and more astonished ! I really thought,
Zarah, that you would have spelt caligraphic with
two Vb, and introduced a capital at the beginning
of every other word. But the specimen is perfect.
However, let that pass : any school-girl decently
educated, can write a fair laand. But what say
you to the real accomplishments that are required
to mtkc the verilablc lady? There is drawing,

for instance "

" Ilave the kindness," repporded Zarah, " to
glance into that portfolio which lies upon the
table"

" Ah !" ejaculated St. Clair ; "if you have been
making any attempts in this department, I can
guess what they must be. There was in ancient
times a painter of so miserable a talent that he
was compelled to write ' This is a house,' or ' This
is a tree,' beneath his pictures, to enable a be-
holder to understand the subjects of them. I am

afraid, Zarah but Ah ! you don't mean to tell

mo that you drew this landscape in pencil or this
head in crayons ?"

My gipsy-friend did not immediately answer
the questions ; and as I again ventured to peep
fortii, I saw that she was bending over the writing
materials which she had before her. Then she
passed a sheet of paper across the table to St.
Ciair,— saying, "Do you recognise this little hastily
sketched portrait ? It is a mere pea and ink out-
line "

" Why, it is myself!" he exclaimed. "But are
you sure you have not flattered me to some little
extent ? I really did not fancy that I was quite
BO good-looking as this profile represents me.
However, I can no longer doubt that you are the
parent of the drawings in this portfolio. Again I
ask, Zarah, what on earth does it all mean ? Will
you have me understand that beneath the gloss of
these superficial accomplishments you possess any
more substantial attainments ?"

" dust have the goodness to glance your eye
over the books on those shelves," responded Zarah;
" and you will see what for some months past has
been amongst the subjects of my studies."

St. Clair rose from his seat; and again ven-
turing to peep forth, I beheld him approach an
elegant bookcase which was immediately behind
the chair that he had just left. At that moment,
as his back was turned towards us, Zarah — who
caught a glimpse of my countenance— darted a
rapid glance at me,— a glance that was full of
triumph, and which seemed to prognosticate the
conipletest success in respect to the ulterior aim,
whatever it were, which she had in view.

"The histories of England, France, RomOj
and Greece," said St. Clair, musing audibly, as he
looked slowly along the shelves : " works on Natural
History, Geography — Gazetteers— Science, Useful
Information, the British Poets— a select assort-
ment of Novels — Travels, Voyages, Biographies —
French Grammars and Elementary Books ! Why,
Zarah," he suddenly exclaimed, " if you have
crammed your head with all these things, you may
with the greatest assurance set up as a blue-
stocking. I know a host of ladies who pass for
being clever, without half the amount of floating
literary capital which you seem to possess. And
now perhaps you will tell me whether you have
added dancing to your other aceomplishments ?"

"I have," returned Zarah. "But as I perceive
that you are more than half in the vein to treat
the whole matter with ridicule, it is not my pur-
pose to afford a proof of my ability in that art."

" And yet why not a waltz ?" exclaimed St.
Clair, laughing half gaily, half superciliously.
" In default of music, I can hum a tune."

" No," answered Zarah gravely. " After all the
proofs I have given you of the results of my
studies in other respects, you may take for granted
my skill in the art of dancing."

" Then bo it so," replied St. Clair, as he re-
sumed his seat. " And now, my dear Zarah, as I
suppose the exhibition-part of the ceremonies is
at an end, you will at length come to an explana-
tion of the meaning of all this unless indeed I

can guess ?"

" Pray afford me the benefit of your conjecture,"
said my gipsy-friend.

" I will," rejoined St. Clair, "You know that
you are handsome — you possess a fine form — and
you are still young enough— for if I mistake not,
you are barely five-and-twenty. Your ambition
soared above a gipsy life — and you thought you
might shine in a certai^ sphere in the metropolis.
You have a craving for a luxurious mode of exist-
ence— to dress well — to live in handsome apart-
ments— and perhaps to ride in your carriis;a.
Well, Zarah, all this is laudable enough ; and I
for one," St. Clair went on to say, speaking some-
what more seriously than hitherto, "shall be well
pleased to see you in such a position. I under-
stand the means which you purpose to adopt in
order to attain it ; and I now comprehend likewise
wherefore you desired my presence here this even-
ing, and why you have displayed your accomplish-
ments, Y'es — I will cheerfully assist you in the
matter. I will introduce you to a dozen or so of
my fashionable male acquaintances ; and I have
no doubt that you will speedily receive overtures
on very handsome terms— so that in the course of
a few weeks I shall behold you the mistress of
some dashing Baronet or some infatuated old
Marquis."

" Captain St. Clair," said Zarah, in a voice
which quivered somewhat — and I felt assured it
was with suppressed indignation, " if it were not
for all that has aforetime taken place between you
and me,. I should not have listened with even
ordinary patience to the remarks you have been
addressing to me. But under circumstances I
forgive you. No !— once for all learn that I have
not devoted myself day and night for upwards of
six long months to the task of selt'-i'iiproveraont,
for any purpose so vile as that which you have

208

ifellETT PERCY; OB, TRE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

conjectured. I would sooner return to the tat-
tered garments of a gipsy than wear this raiment
for meretricious objects. If I have been frail, it
was with you alone ! As there is a heaven above
us I have at least proved faithful to that weakness
which I demonstrated towards you ! Now do you
begin to comprehend the aim which I had in
view ?"

"After all you have just said," replied St, Clair,
again with a tincture of superciliousness in his
accents, " the only conjecture left for me is that
you seek to obtain a position by means of mar-
riage. In this respect I may perhaps also be
enabled to assist you somewhat "

" That is the very purpose," interrupted Zarah,
" for which I requested vou to call upon me this
evening! Yes— it is you, and you only, who can
forward my views!"

" Perhaps," said St. Clair, " you have already
some one in your eye as your future husband.
And yet I am at a loss to understand "

" Yes — I have some one in my eye, as you ex-
press it," rejoined Zarah.

"And therefore," continued St. Clair, "as I
doubtless know him, you think that "

"No one knows him better tbau yourself!" in-
terjected Zarah.

" Ah, by heaven ! you are a long time coming
to the point," ejaculated St. Clair : " and were it
not too supremely ridiculous, I should positively
fancy But no!" and he laughed aloud.

"The suspicion which has entered into your
mind," said Zarah, quietly yet firmly, " is the cor-
rect one. It is yov.. Captain St. Clair, who will
give me the position which I crave and for which
I have been preparing myself!"

"Zarah, you are mad!" ejaculated St. Clair,
starting up suddenly from his seat.

"I am not mad : I never was more completely
possessed of my reason tl^n at this moment. I
hope. Captain St. Clair, that we shall have no scene
of violence "

"Violence?— it is ridiculous!" exclaimed St.
Clair. "You cannot be serious, Zarah — you are
only putting me to some test which I cannot pre-
cisely understand. If you want money wherewith

to carry on your new game, you shall have it

I will be liberal to you. But "

" In a pecuniary sense I will be indebted to
you no longer !" interrupted Zarah resolutely.
" When I asked you to give me a considerable
sum of money some six or seven months back, it
was my intention to qualify myself to become
your wife "

" Jly wife !" cried St. Clair contemptuously.
" You are raving, Zarah !"

" I beseech you to listen to me," she said, in a
tone full of calm confidence. " Yes — it was to
qualify myself to become your wife ! Ignorant
and ill-mannered as I was— utterly unacquainted
with all but the scantiest rudiments of education
—a stranger to the amenities and courtesies of
life — I dared not do you so great an injury as to
insist that you should conduct mo to the altar.
Therefore I resolved to wait awhile, and labour
most assiduously to round off the asperities which
low birth and defective education had left upon
my character, my demeanour, and bearing. For
this purpose I had no scruple in having recourse
to your purse. Were you already married, and if

you had children, you would not hesitate to expend
hundreds of pounds on the education of any one
of them. I therefore considered that you ought
not to begrudge a certain sum to qualify me for
becoming your wife."

" As for the money which I gave you, I care
nothing about it," replied Edwin St. Clair; "and
if at the time you had demanded twice as much,
it would have been your's. But whether I am
disposed to gratify this insane idea which you
have formed, is altogether another thing."

"You will gratify it, Edwin !" said Zarah calmly:
and this was the first time during the present in-
terview that she had addressed him by his Chris-
tian name.

" By heaven, I will perish sooner !" he vehe-
mently exclaimed.

" Now understand me well, Edwin!" resumed
Zarah. " I have loved you devotedly — I still love
you, notwithstanding that I know what you are.
But beware how you convert all this love into
hatred!"

" What ! you dare threaten me ?" cried St.
Clair. " It is for me to bid you bo cautious^— or
I will trample you under foot as I would a
worm !"

"You can do me but little injury," rejoined
Zarah. "Though certain things have come to my
knowledge, yet I myself was not an accomplice in

them "

" And you would turn round upon me ?" ex-
claimed St. Clair. " Is this your boasted love ? —
is this your affection ?"

" You know the human heart too well, Edwin,"
answered Zarah, " not to be fully aware that in
all its strongest feelings and passions extremes
Eieet. The most fervid love may turn into the
most violent hatred ; and the woman who at one
moment is ready to sacrifice her life for the object
of her affection, may the next instant be goaded
by her revenge to seek the life of him towards
whom her love has changed into aversion !"

"You are teaching how we stand with regard
to each other," responded St. Clair, in the low
concentrated tone of bitterest rage. "Bat what
if I were to defy you, Zarah ? — what if I were to
bid you do your worst ?"

" As there is a heaven above us," she answered,
with a certain solemnity, and with a deep impres-
I siveness of voice, " I would do it I"
\ " And send your grandmother to the scaffold,"
' rejoined St. Clair, " along with others whom your
infatuated madness and cruel vindictiveness would
I thus involve in a common ruin !"
I He spoke these words in a low hollow voice—
! 60 low indeed that I could only just catch the
words themselves ; and though I dared not peep
forth at this juncture, yet I could easily picture
to myself that his countenance was ghastly pale
and that his whole form trembled visibly.
I "There is not the slightest doubt relative to
my present intentions," said Zarah. '"' I am like
' a desperate person who has cast her whole fate
I upon the hazard of a die. You shall espouse me
I — and I will make you a loving wife : or you shall
I reject me— and even within the hour that is pass-
ing will I be signally avenged. To you, Edwin,
I Was my first and only love given. You found me
a wild gipsy hoyden of the woods : you avowed
j that you loved me— you taught me to know what

ELLEN PfiHCT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS.

269

love is ; and if for such instruction on your part
marriage is the penalty, you must pay it ! Though
but tlio poor and hurable gipsy, I had my own
ideas of virgin pride and dignity ; and you
brought me down from that proud pedestal. In
a word, Edwin, you were my seducer — and you
shall become my husband !"

"Zarah!" replied St. Clair, "you know not
what you ask of me! If you wore better ac-
quainted with the world, you would laugh at your
own self for that which you would then compre-
hend to be the most egregious folly. Suppose for
an instant that I were to yield and make you my
wife : I should become the object of scorn and
contempt on the part of all my friends and ac-
quaintances: — and would you like to know that
your husband was thus the laughing-stock of
everybody ?"

" Did ycu not ere now say," inquired Zarah,
" that a gentleman may marry his cook-maid,
and he thereby renders her a lady. The gentle-
man does not descend to the level of her whom he
espouses : he raises her up to become the sharer
of his own position."

" By heavens, Zarah, you will drive me mad !"
exclaimed St. Clair, now losing all control over his
temper. " Your arguments are monstrous ! your
reasonings are absurd ! You cannot be so insane
as to fancy that I shall conduct a low-born gipsy
to the altar ! Why, my good girl, I have seen you
without shoes — in ra^s "

"Ah !" ejaculated Zarah, now no longer able to
control her own indignant feelings ; " you have
done well to remind me of all this ! It was when
I was with naked feet and clothed in rags, some
five years ago, that you, Edwin St. Clair, ad-
dressed me in the language of love ! — you thought
me worthy of becoming your toy — your mistress !
— and yoii vowed that you would never forget the
poor gipsy Zarah ! Now behold me clothed in
silk— bedecked with lace and with jewellery; and
if raiment have anything to do with the heart's
affections or with the duty of a man towards a
woman, then do I fearlessly proclaim that if in my
tatters, my semi-nudity, my coarseness of manner,
and my mental ignorance, I were worthy of be-
coming your mistress— MOW, in the gentility of my
toilet, in the refinements which I have acquired,
and in the enlightenment of my mind, I am
worthy of becoming your wife !"

"But how would you meet the world's ridi-
cule ?" demanded St. Clair: " or rather let me ask
how you would enable me to meet it ?"

" For shame, Edwin !" exclaimed Zarah, in a
tone of indignant reproach : " how can you ap-
peal to a woman to teach you your duties as a
man ? The very moment that any supercilious
gaze is fixed upon me, or any mocking laugh falls
upon your ear, have you not an arm to strike the
insolent one down ? — or cannot that hand of yours
pull the pistol's trigger in a sterner encounter
still ? It is not Edwin St. Clair who would be at
ft loss for the means to avenge any slight or insult
that might be offered to the woman whom he
chose to make his wife !"

" All this would be very well, Zarab," responded
St. Clair sarcastically, " if we were living in thosa
times of chivalry when I might buckle on my
armour to defend the fair fame of my ladyo-wife.
But unfortunately for your cause the days of

chivalry are gone; and I am no Don Q;u\oto to
do deeds of knight-errantry in vindicalion of a
Zarah the gipsy who would fain place herself in
the position of a Dulcinea del Toboso."

"Even if I had been inclined to waver or to
yield in my original resolution," answered Zarab,
" this sarcastic language of your'a would for very
spite's sake strengthen me in my determination.
Learn therefore, Edwin St. Clair, that my resolve
is fixed ! Make me your wife, and I will do my
duty towards you: but refuse, and the whole fabric
of your fortune, your brilliant position, and your
fame shall crumble around you, overvvhelnaiuj^ you
with its ruins— and I the authoress of this whole-
sale desolation !"

There was a pause of nearly a minute ; and
then I heard St. Clair ask in a low hoarse voice,
" But is It possible, Zurah, that knowing, as you
fancy, enough to work me all this tremendous
mischief, — knowing, in short, what I am" — and
here his accents grew even more concentrated in
the intenseness of the feeling which they ex-
pressed,— "is it possible I ask that with all this
knowledge of my antecedents you would venture
to become my wife, even if I myself were willing ?"

" It is possible !" replied Zarah : "nay, more—
of all these things have 1 thought, and I am re-
solved to dare and venture whatsoever——"

"Pause! reflect!" interrupted St. Clair:
" speak not hurriedly ! You know me well — you
know me to be a man who will hesitate at nothing
to clear his path of obstacles, or to fight his way
desperately amidst the perils which beset him.
Beware therefore how you persevere in this mad
design of your's — how you insist upon forcing
yourself upon me as a wife !"

" The warning is unnecessarv," responded
Zarah, again speaking with calmness ; " and every
additional word you use to divert me from my
purpose, is ao much waste of breath. Once for
all "

"Then by heaven !" cried St. Clair, now again
giving way to his fury, " you may do your worst !
What ! render myself ridiculous before all the
world— cut myself out of society — expose myself
to the laugh of scorn and contempt ! No ! sooner
would I dare all that you can do! — sooner would
I speed to the nearest bridge and fling myself
thence as a suicide !"

"1 am not to be deterred by any such threats
as these," answered Zarah. " I have no fear that
Edwin St. Clair will take any steps so desperate.
His egotism and his selfishness are too great to
render him a subject for the catalogue of suicides.
But this argument has lasted long enough "

" Yes— too long !" ejaculated St. Clair, fiercely.
" Farewell, Zarah — and do your worst !"

Thus speaking, he rushed to the door— opened
it — and issued from the apartment. Zarah made
no movement and said not a word to detain him.
He closed the door violently ; and I half emerged
from my hiding-place, saying, " You have failed,
Zarah — you have failed!. Now what will you
do ?"

" I have won — I have conquered !" she quickly
responded, her countenance lighting up with the
glow of enthusiastic triumph. " Oh, I know that
man well ! He will return iu a few moments —
he is only doing this to try me. If I had rushed
after him and sought to detain him, it would have

270

EixEir pbect; ob, the memoies op ak acteebs.

appeared as if I were having recourse to entreaty,
ond that therefore I was weak in mj own purpose
and incapable of carrying out the threats which I
proclaimed. But he also knows me : and he is

aivare that when I am determined Hush ! he

returns, Miss Percy ! Retreat — retreat !"

And it was as Zarah had said: for scarcely had
I time to draw back into my hiding-place and pull
the door rgar again, when the opposite door opened
from the landing, and St. Clair reappeared.

" I do not choose to part from you in anger,
Zarah," he said, advancing towards her ; " and
naoieover it struck me as I was hastening down
the stairs, that there is a way of settling this
natter to your satisfaction. You have qualified
yourself to occupy a new position in the world : —
what if I v.-ere to settle upon you a handsome in-
come—say a thousand a year would you not

be content ?"

"If you were to lay all your fortune at my
feet," replied Zarah, " without offering me your
hand at the same time, I should repudiate it. My
miud is thoroughly made up. And now one word
more — and only one word ! To-morrow morning,
at eleven o'clock, I expect you to ba here, with a
special license, and with a minister to join our
hands in marriage. If you fail me— and if when
the hour of noon is proclaimed by the time-piece
on that mantel, you are still absent — I shall go
straight hence to a magistrate ; and without pity
or remorse "

"Enough, Zarah!" said St. Clair in a voice
which seemed to be of a dying tone : " it shall be
so ! To-morrow at eleven o'clock I will be here,
prepared to make you my wife."

Having thus spoken, St. Clair quitted the room ;
and in a few moments the front door of the house
was heard to close. This noise was followed almost
immediately by the sounds of his cabriolet dashing
along the street ; and then I camo forth from my
hiding-place.

" I told you that I should conquer— and I have
succeeded !" exclaimed Zarah, her countenance
radiant with triumph. "N"ow, my dear Miss
Percy, you have learned the secret of my life. I
became that man's victim : I erred— I fell— and as
he was the author of my ruin, so now shall he lift
me up as high as he has plunged me down low !"

" But, Zarah," I asked, almost shuddering as I
thought of her alliance with such a fearful being
as I considered that St. Clair was, — " do you in-
deed love him ?"

"Yes, I love him, Miss Percy, in spite of all his
wickedness — in spite of all his crimes 1" and it was
with a strange hardihood, even bordering upon
fierceness, that she made this avowal. " I have read
enough to know that love is an eccentric passion
and assumes strange phases. Mine is singular ;
and to you its aspect may even bo revolting. Still
it exists not the less within me. If he should
learn to love me— as he once told me that he did
— I shall continue to love him, and I will devote
myself heart and soul to his welfare. But if he
should scorn the wife who has forced herself upon
him, and treat me With contumely and neglect —
then will my love become hatred: but I shall be
suSciently avenged in the knowledge that I have
forced him to espouse me. And now you compre-
hend, Miss Percy, all that has been mysterious in
my past conduct. "VVhcn you were made a pri-

soner at ray grandmother's cottage, it was then
through no feeling of friendship that I accom-
plished your release : it was because I loved St.
Clair, and was jealous ! If I furnished you with
the means of striking terror into his soul by speak-
ing of the white rose, it was because I was anxi-
ous to provide you with a weapon of defence that
might thereafter serve you in any emergency
brought about by his machinations. The same
motive led me to release you from the farm-house ;
and then, when I saw how perseveringly St. Clair
was following up his insane passion for you, it
struck me that there was something more than
mere beauty which so dazzled him. I reflected
within myself that if I were well-mannered and
accomplished, I should perhaps never have lost his
love, and he would not have dared to look upon
me as the rejected mistress whose agency he could
employ in his machinations to ensnare another.
It was then therefore that I resolved to enter upon
a new phase of my existence. I craved your suc-
cour— your advice — your counsel; — and I craved
not in vain. I then learnt to regard you as a
friend and to love you. Pinally I was resolved to
have no secrets from you; and therefore are you
here this evening. Best assured that St. Clair
will adhere to his pledge : he will come to-morrov
to espouse me ; and whatever his subsequent con-
duct may be, I shall at all events watch over your
interests and zealously guard you against the
effects of any future intrigues on his part."

I listened with the deepest attention to all that
Zarah thus said ; and after some few minutes'
meditation, I observed in a warning tone, "Be-
ware of this man. He has promised you a certaia
thing : but may he not have given the pledge in
order the more completely to throw you off your
guard, and devise some project during the lew
hours between this moment and eleven in the fore-
noon to-morrow — a project which may terribly
avenge himself for all that you have said and
purposed this evening ?"

" Be not afraid on my account, my dear Miss
Percy," said Zarah, with a tone and look of com-
pletest confidence. " I myself entertain no appre-
hension. Yet sincerely do I thank you for all
the kind interest you are displaying on my be<
half."

After a little more conversation I took leave of
Zirah ; and entering a cab, ordered the driver to
conduct me to Hunter Street. During the ride I
reviewed everything which bad taken place ; and
while on the one hand I was astonished at the
energy, the perseverance, and the firmness which
had characterized Zarah's entire conduct, from the
very first day she commenced her studies until the
final moment when she extorted an assent from
St. Clair's lips— yet on the other hand I continued
to entertain the apprehension that St. Clair would
not yield irrevocably without at least one desperate
effort to emancipate himself from such thraldom.
Indeed, I knew him too well to suppose that he
would resign himself to such a destiny and accept
such a fate, without a struggle to avoid it. In
the first instance he had seduced Zarah from the
path of virtue: he had then thrown her off;
and his own estimate of the mere passing amour
might be judged from the fact that he had sought
to avail himself of the services of that very cast-
off mistress to keep guard, jointly with her grau !-

BIiLEN PEBCT; OE, THE MEMOIBS OE AN ACTEESS.

H71

mother, upon mjself, on the two occasions which
the rtader will reiuember so well — namely, at the
cottage between Eiroiiughaui and Embledon, and
at the farm-house in the vicinage of Highbury.
That he should have thus treated Zarah was a
sufficient proof of the indifference or even con-
tempt in which he had held alike her heart's best
feelings and her own self: — and was it therefore
probable that he would now abandon himself to
the fate of receiving such a brido without some
desperate efl'ort to rid himself of her altogether ?
I could not help thinking that there was a little
vanity mised up in Zarah's disposition and con-
duct. Slie had erideully fancied that the acquire-
ment of lady-like manners as well as of mental
accomplishments— the tasteful embellishment of
her person — tho invocation of the aids of the toilet
to set off her beauty— and her self-investment as
it were with a gloss of gentility, would combine
to reconcile St. Clair to the acceptation of her as
his bride. She had no doubt calculated that when
yielding to necessity, he would say within him-
self, " Well, after all, she will not disgrace me as
a wife. I may even perhaps be proud of her !"

But if all these were really Zarah's hopes, cal-
culations, and expectances, I was fully convinced
that her wonted keenness, shrewdness, and fore-
sight had for once failed her, and that Edwin St.
Clair was r,ot the man to succumb so easily.

CHAPTEE XLVIL

•WILLIAM lAEDNEK.

I BEACHED Hunter Street with this apprehension
oven more strongly fixed in my mind than when I
had first mentioned it to Zarah : and I said to
myself, "I wish that I could adopt some plan to
guard and protect her for the twelve or thirteen
hours which are to elapse until the arrival of the
moment when St. Clair is to keep his promise. If
she pass tJiis night in safety — and if the hour of
eleven in to-morrow's forenoon were to strike
and she still at freedom, beyond tho reach of
whatsoever toils St. Clair might set to entrap her
— Fho would theu bo completely mistress of the
situation : she would be the arbitress of his
destiny !"

It was about half-past ten o'clock when I
alighted from the cab in Hunter Street j and after
having reflected for a few minutes in the drawing-
room, I resolved to consult Beda. I accordingly
summoned her to my presence ; and I said,
" Something has occurred which renders mo appre-
hensivo that danger menaces our friend Zarah.
She herself will not however admit that she in-
curs this peril ; and so great is her confidence on
the point, that I could not induco her to adopt
any precaution."

"At whose hands, Miss," inquired Beda, " does
Zarah incur this peril ?"

"At the hands of Captain St. Clair," I re-
sponded. " My apprehension is altogether vague
and indefinite — I am unable to form the slightest
conjecture as to the shape in which the pending
treachery may show itself: but I fear that tho
night will nut, pass without something serious or
even fatal happening to Zarab."

"What can I do, Miss?" inquired Beda.

" But ah !" she suddenly ejaculated ; " there is
one" — and then a slight blush appeared upon
her cheeks, — "one wlio would do anything to
oblige yoU; Miss— or myself he would keep
watch "

" To whom do you refer, Beda ?" I asked.

"To William Lardner, Miss," she rejoined.
" He is at this moment down stairs in the servants'
room. His ship will clear out of Blaekwall in
two or three days : became to bid mo farewell;
and he was just on the point of taking his leave
when the bell rang to summon me into your pre-
sence."

" This is most fortunate, Beda !" I exclaimed ;
" and your idea is an excellent one ! Let AVilliam
Lardner come up to mo."

Beda glided from tho room ; and in a few mo-
ments she returned, ushering in the good-looking
young sailor, who evinced much pleasure in seeing
me again. I quickly gave him the same brief ex-
planations which I had already given to Beda;
and it was with something more than mere wil-
lingness—it was with enthusiastic delight that he
offered to serve me in any way that I might point
out. I inquired when he must return to his ship ?
— and he assured me that if he were on board the
East Indiaman by noon on the ensuing day, it
would suffice. I accordingly acquainted him with
the street and the number of the house in which
Zarah dwelt ; and I bade hioa go and keep such
watch as circumstances should enable him to
maintain. He had no liking for Edwin St. Clair :
his honest mind had been shocked by all the
transactions relative to the yacht at Eamsgate ;
and he had therefore no hesitation in adopting a
course which might be inimical to the views,
schemes, and interests of his late master. I in-
formed him that I should purposely rise very early
in the morning, in case ho had anything of import-
ance to communicate : and having thus given kim
all requisite instructions, I despatched him on his
mission.

My mind now felt more easy ; for I knew that
William Lardner was perfectly trustworthy as well
as intelligent and courageous; and if nothing
should happen, Z%rah need not know that I had
taken this precaution — whereas, oa the other
hand, if treachery should indeed display itself,
that precaution might not prove to be without
its uses. Mr. and Mrs. JS^orman and Juliet re-
turned home from the theatre shortly after eleven
o'clock ; and I theu retired to rest.

I arose at about six in tho morning ; and
Beda, who occupied an ante-chamber, was already
dressed. She descended to the front door : she
found William Lardner pacing to and fro in the
street; and she at once gave him admittance.
After exchanging a few words with him, she re-
turned to my chamber and told me that some-
thing had indeed occurred, as I had foreseen. My
toilet was speedily made : and I descended to the
dining-room, where William Lardner was refresh-
ing himself with the viands and drinkables that
had been laid for the previous night's supper, and
which had not as yet been cleared away. I will
give his narrative as he told it to me : —

" Immediately ou leaving this house, a littlo
before eleven last night, I t^ok a cab and pro-
ceeded to the West Lad, I alighted at tho cornet
of the street which you mentioned to me, Miss;

272

ELLEX PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACIRKSS.

and I walked leisurely to and fro for about half-
an-hour. Daring all this time I saw a light burn-
ing in tlie iVoDt drawing-room on the first floor;
and once or twice I perceived a female figure
passing behind the curtains : so that i was tole-
rably confident that this was Zarah and that no-
thing had as jet happened to her. It was close
upon twelve o'clock when a cab drew up at a
short distance from the house ; and three persons
got out. One was a stout elderly gentleman,
dressed in black, and cai-rying a gold-headed cane :
the other two were men of some inferior condition
— and I did not like their looks. I drew as near
as I could without standing the chance of exciting
suspicion that I was thus on the watch; and I saw
the stout gentleman and the two men proceed to
the house in which Zarah dwelt. The gentleman
gave a slight rap at the front door; and then I
felt all the more conviuced that some mischief was
brewing ; for it seemed intended as if this mode of
knocking should not startle Zarah nor put her on
her guard. The door was presently opened by a
female servant : the gentleman and his two fol-
lowers at once entered ; and the door was shut.
The cab then proceeded slowly a little way along
the street— turned round — and drew up right op-
posite the front door. Without a moment's hesi-
tation I went up to the cabman, put a sovereign
into his hand, and said, ' Tell me what is the
meaning of all this ?' — ' Why, my man,' he at
ODce answered, 'it's a little bit of lunacy affair,
and that's all.' — 'Where are you going to take
the person to ?' I demanded. — ' I don't know,' he
replied : ' that gentleman and his two men got out
of an omnibus down iu Piccadilly, and at once
called me off the stand. They told me in a few
words that they were going to take a patient to
an asylum, and that therefore I must not mind
anything she said. The stout gentleman assured
me it was all right, as the medical certificates had
been signed; and so you see, my man, the busi-
ness is straightforward enough. It isn't the first
time I have had to do a bit of work of this sort.' —
' Welt,' I immediately said, ' I am interested in
the matter ; and if, when you have returned from
taking the patient to the asylum, you will meet
me again, I will give you another sovereign. But
not a word to the doctor or his men!' — 'AH right,'
answered the cab-driver : and he named a public-
house in some street off Piccadilly, which keeps
open all night, and where he promised to join me.
I then hastened away to a little distance; and in
a few moments I saw the front door open, and a
female, who seemed to be struggling violently, was
hastily borne out between the two men and thrust
into the cab. She was crying loudly for help :
several persons stopped : I rushed back to the
spot, as if attracted by those cries : but a police-
man, on receiving acme hurried intimation from
the old gentleman with the gold-headed cane, said
it was all right. That gentleman jumped into the
cab, which his men had already entered ; the win-
dows were drawn up; and the vehicle dashed
away at a rapid rate. I don't think that the
whole proceeding, from the instant that the front
door opened for the men to come out with poor
Zarah, until the cab drove off, occupied more than
a minute."

"And did the driver keep his appointment with
you?" 1 anxiously asked.

" Oh, yes. Miss," replied William Lardner :
" there was no fear of his disappointing me : he
had another sovereign to earn. You will of course
understand, Miss, that the instant I found it was
a lunacy-affair — though no doubt a pretended one
— I was compelled to keep myself quiet : I dared
not interfere for the rescue of poor Zarah — I
should only have been given into custody — and
that would have made matters worse instead of
bettering them."

"Yes, you could not have acted otherwise than
you have done," I hastily interjected : " your con-
duct was most discreet under the circumstances.
But now for the remainder of your narrative .''"

" I went to the publio-house," continued Wil-
liam Lardner ; " and there I sat for a good hour
and a half before the cabman made his appear-
ance. Indeed it was about half-past one o'clock
in the morning when he came : and he then gave
me the information I wanted. He told me that
he had driven to an asylum right at the end of
dotting Hill : it stands all alone, up a by-road to
the right : it is called Borland House ; and the
name of the doctor himself is Beresford. And
now. Miss, I have nothing more to say."

I expressed my sincere thanks to William Lard-
ner for the services that he had rendered ; and I
insisted that he should accept from me the sum
of ten guineas, which I placed in his hand.
He would have declined to receive a single
shilling more than the amount which he had ac-
tually expended : but I declared that I should feel
hurt and angry if he refused, and that on no
future occasion should I ever avail myself of his
services. He therefore yielded ; and I left him
alone for a few minutes with Beda, that he
might bid her farewell.

I ascended to my chamber, and sat down to re-
flect upon the course which was now to be
adopted. My estimate of St. Clair's character
had not been wrongly made : his fiendish capa-
city for mischief had indeed devised a terrible
means of ridding himself of Zarah. I kne.v
enough of the infamous lunacy laws to be well
aware that if a couple of unprincipled surgeons,
lured by bribes, had signed a particular certificate
— and that if Dr. Beresford was also one of those
willing instruments of mischief whom such a vil-
lain as St. Clair seldom fails to pick up with
readiness — Zirah's position was indeed a most
awkward one. The law was entirely against
her ; while the whole fiction of it, with all its
associated iniquity, was completely on the side of
St. Clair. There was consequently no authority
to whom I could appeal on Zarah's behalf and
yet I was resolved not to abandon her. I now
saw that cunning must be met by cunning, and
artifice must be encountered by artifice. Already
certain plans were suggesting themselves to my
mind ; . and I had matured them by the time
Bada made her appearance, at the expiration of
about ten minutes,— she having taken leave of
William Lardner.

I explained to Beda enough of the lunacy laws
to convince her how completely Zirah was now
vanquished by her merciless enemy, uuless we
took speedy measures for her rescue.

" For the next sis months," I observed, " she
may remain in a madhouse before the visiting
Commissioners can be appealed to on her behalf.

ELLES PEHCT ; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AK ACIRES8,

During that interval a studied system of cruel
treatment maj drive her reallj mad ; and this is
doubtless the aim to vrbich the villain St. Clair
ia now looking. It is therefore a paramount
necessity that we should enter upon our proceed-
ings at once. The first step is to establish a
medium of communication with Zarah ; and jou,
Beda, munt become that medium."

" I will do everything, Miss, that you com-
mand me," replied the willing girl.

"You must go boldly to Norland House,'' I
continued, "and tell Doctor Beresford that you
have been appointed by Captain St. Clair to attend
upon Zarah. He will at once believe you : he will
see that you know everything connected with the
circumstance : he will therefore be thrown com-
pletely ofiF his guard ; and ho will even fancy that
you must have received some special instructions
from 8t. Clair in reference to the mode of treat-
No 35.— J>ii£s Peect.

ment to be observed towards Zarah. Indeed, you
can throw out a hint to this effect "

" But if in the course of the day," remarked
Beda, "the Doctor should communicate with Cap*
tain St. Clair and discover that I have practised
this deception "

"He could but expel you from his housa
Beda," I rejoined.

" Oh ! it is not of my own personal safety I
am thinking," she ejaculated. " I would dare
anything and everything for poor Zarah's sake :
for never can I forget that it was through her I
became introduced to you !"

" No matter, my dear Beda," I resumed, " if
in the course of the day you should be compelled to
leave Norland House. The grand object is in the
first instance for you to obtain access to Zarah, if
only for a single hour. You will convey to her the
j assurance that the treacherous plot of which she

274

SXLEN PEKCY; OE, TWE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS.

has become a victim, is known to those who will
befriend her ; and thus she will be relieved of the
horrible idea that the darkest mystery envelopes
her fate. You will see likewise what she herself
may suggest, and whether by the aid of friends
out-of-doors she may effect her escape. Further-
more, you will be enabled to take a survey of the
internal arrangements of the asylum ; and thus
we shall not be working altogether in the dark.
It is just probable that no communication at all
may take place during the day between Doctor
Beresford and Captain St. Clair ; and if fortune
should so far favour us, your visit to the asylum
may be productive of speedy and important re-
sults."

I then gave Beda some farther instructions in
respect to the course which she was to pursue ;
and she at once took her departure. When I
joined the Normans at tlie breakfast-table, I
accounted for the visit of a young sailor to the
house at such an hour in the morning, by stating
that he was much attached to Beda, and that by
my permission he had come to bid her farewell
previous to finally joining his ship. I have before
said that the Normans bad no undue curiosity ;
and in respect to my actions they were never ac-
customed to question me farther than I chose to
instruct them on any point. I thought it very
probable that my services would be required in
the evening on behalf of Zarah : at all events I
was determined to be prepared for such a contin-
gency ; and I therefore resolved to excuse myself
from appearing at the theatre. This I did on the
usual plea of indisposition ; and the Normans were
not surprised when they heard me state that I was
indisposed— for the excitement which I had sus-
tained on Zarah's account had rendered me pale
and had given me a careworn look.

At about twelve o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Norman
went to the theatre, as usual, accompanied by
Juliet, — all three for the purposes of rehearsal ;
and I soon afterwards set out for Netting Hill,
according to an understanding to which 1 had
come with Beda. 1 proceeded in a cab, and
alighted in the neighbourhood of the road in
which Norland House was situated. I had pur-
posely dressed myself with great plainness : I had
on a thick veil : and I looked carefully about to see
that St. Clair was not anywhere in the neighbour-
hood. I did not entertain much apprehension on
this point : for I thought that when once he learnt
that Zarah was in safe custody in the lunatic-
asylum, he would consider that his plan was fully
accomplished and he would not trouble himself
much more on her behalf.

After walking about for a little time, and not
seeing anything of Beda, I turned into the by-
road itself and passed by Norland House. It
was only a small establishment: but it had a
picturesque appearance ; for at one extremity im-
mense vines climbed up the walls and festooned
about the windows. These windows had all Vene-
tian blinds : but of those in the other parts of the
asylum, some were barred to the top of the lowpr
sash — while others again wore completely pro-
tected by gratings from top to bottom. The
structure stood in the midst of a small garden,
the walls of which were very high : but through
the iron gateway I could obtain a full view of the
house. I walked to the end of the road, where it

abruptly joined some fields, for it was unfinished,
and I thou retraced my way towards the main
road, in which I had agreed to meet Beda in case
circumstances should render it advisable for her to
come forth from the asylum on some pretext or
another.

I bad not waited long before I beheld the faith-
ful girl tripping towards me; and when I was
convinced that she had caught sight of me, I pro-
ceeded still farther, so as to reach a spot where
there was no fear of our movements being ob-
served by anyone connected with the asylum. Slio
joined me ; and I at once saw by the expression of
her countenance that everything was going on
well.

" You have succeeded, Beda," I said, " in ob-
taining access to Zurah P"

" Yes — immediately on my arrival," responded
the girl. "I was first of all conducted to a room
where I found the Doctor and his wife ; and with
all the hardihood that I could muster to my aid I
told them that I had been sent by Captain St.
Clair to be attached entirely to the person of
Zarah. Doctor Beresford looked at me signifi-
cantly, and said, ' I suppose, then, that you have
some special instructions ?' — I answered that I
had. — ' Well, well,' he said, ' I do not inquire
what they are. Captain St, Clair, who has in-
terested himself on behalf of this poor mad
creature, knows what he is about ; and it is for us
to give you every assistance and to afford you
every facility in carrying out his views,' He then
asked if I were not myself of the gipsy race? — I
replied that I was. Mrs. Beresford then joined
in the conversation ; and she said with a look full
of some strange moaning, 'I suppose we are to
consider you as being entirely devoted to the in"
terests of Captain St. Clair ?' — I again gave a re-
sponse in the affirmative : and the lady then con-
ducted me to a chamber, where I found Zirah
seated with a female keeper, who presently left the
room."

" And how does poor Zarah endure her cala-
mity ?" I asked.

" She was in complete possession of her presence
of mind," continued Beda, " when I was ushered
to her room ; for when Mrs. Bc'resford proposed to
conduct me thither, I was apprehensive lost in a
sudden transport of joy at beholding a friendly
face, Zarah might betray feelings calculated to
excite a suspicion in the old lady's mind. But
merely flinging a look upon me, she said with
assumed coldness, ' Ah, is it you ?' — Mrs. Beres-
ford then retired ; and when the door closed upon
us, Zarah, starting up, caught me in her arms."

" Ah ! I can easily picture to myself," I said,
" the joy that she must have experienced !"

" And it was therefore a wonder," added Beda,
" that she should have exercised so strong a con-
trol over her feelings when first I made my ap-
pearance. But she told me that she was at once
smitten with the conviction that I had by some
artifice obtained admission lo her, and that every-
thing might therefore depend on the way in which
she received me. She calculated reasonably
enough that if I had presented myself at the
asylum ss a friend, the door would have been
closed against me. But oh ! my dear Miss Percy,
nothing can exceed the gratitude which she ex-
periences towards you for the precaution you took

BttEJT PEBCT; OH, THE MEMOIES OB A» ACTEE33.

275

in having some one to watoh over her safety : for
amidst all bcr painful thoughts, the most horrible
idea was that she had suddenly passed as it were
out of the midst of the great world into that sepul-
chre of an asylum, without leaving a trace be-
hind !"

" And I suppose that she is most bitter and
vindictive," I said, "against Edwin St. Clair?"

" She yearns to effect her escape," Beda an-
swered, '"■ in order that she may accomplish some
aim with which you. Miss, are acquainted, and
which she has promised to explain to me."

" And is there any chance," I asked, " for Zarah
to effect her escape ?"

"Yes— every chance!" rejoined Beda. "In-
deed, the whole scheme is settled ; and it is to be
put into practice this evening, provided that Cap-
tain St. Clair in the meantime does not discover
that I have obtained access to Zarah. But I hope
and trust that there is little risk of such discovery,
for the reason that I will presently explain."

"Every additional syllable you utter, my dear
Beda," I said, " infuses fresh joy into my heart.
Continue your explanations in your own way.
But perhaps I may as well inform you that I just
now passed by the asylum, and took a scrutinizing
view of its exterior through the iron gateway."

" Ah ! then you will all the more easily compre-
hend the explanations which I have to give !" ex-
claimed Beda. " You have seen that the house is
a srooll one; it is only fitted up to contain about
fourteen or sixteen female lunatics ; and there are
not more than six or seven there at the present
time. The house is handsomely furnished ; and as
Doctor Beresford is paid four or five hundred
pounds a year for each inmate, you may suppose
that it is a profitable business, even with the
limited number of patients that be now pos-
sesses."

" And particularly," I added, " considering bow
unscrupulously he conducts the business, and what
large fees may at times pass into bis bands in the
form of bribes. But continue, Beda. I am most
anxious to learn what plan you have devised for
poor Zarah's escape."

"Tou perhaps noticed, Miss," proceeded the
faithful girl, " that there are some rooms on that
side where the vines cover the walls, which have
no bars ?"

"Yes— I observed them," I said: "they have
Venetian shutters."

"The same," rejoined Beda. "But as you may
suppose, it was not in one of those rooms that I
found Zarah. Her chambsr is well protected with
iron bars. The rooms with the undefended win-
dows and the Venetian blinds, are for lunatics of
an entirely harmless nature, and concerning whom
no apprehension of escape is entertained : whereas
on the other band Doctor and ilrs. Beresford have
perhaps too good reason to know that Zarali
would grasp at the slightest opportunity of flight."

" Besides," I interjected, " it may doubtless
suit their purpose to represent Zarah as a con-
firmed and dangerous lunatic ; so that she may
be surrounded by all possible circumstances of
tyranny, terrorism, and coercion."

" All this is doubtless within their calculations,"
answered Beda. " When I was first introduced
to Zarah's chamber this morning, the door was
ocked : but before Mrs. Beresford retired, she

gave me the key, bidding me secure the door in-
ternally, and to be sure to keep the key about ray
own person. These instructions she gave aside in
a low whisper. In short, my dear Miss Percy, I
can calculate upon being the custodian of the key
for a certain period. At about twelve o'clock
some refreshments were brought up into the room
by a female keeper, who was followed by Mrs.
Beresford. This lady asked me if I would like
to look over the house; and I at once replied
that I should. I will not waste precious time
by telling you anything about the lunatic inmates
whom I saw : but I will hasten to explain that I
found all the rooms with the Venetian blinds to
be unoccupied. These are the rooms, you recol-
lect, which have the windows without bars. Mrs.
Beresford conversed familiarly with me; and I
threw out several hints to confirm the suspicion
which she and her husband had from the first
entertained, to the effect that I had received
special and private instructions from Captain St.
Clair with reference to Zarah's treatment. Be-
fore I parted from Mrs. Beresford, after going
over the house, I casually remarked that I should
presently be compelled to go up into London to
fetch some little things which I had forgotten to
bring with me in my boxes ; and Mrs. Beresford
showed me a bell-pull in the passage, so that I
might always summon one of the female keepers
— or nurses, by the bye, as they are called — to
occupy my place with Zarah when I wished to
absent myself. On again being alone with Zarah,
I communicated to her the fact that all the rooms
with the Venetian blinds were untenanted."

" And now I begin to comprehend," I said,
" the plan of escape. Is it not to watch a favour-
able opportunity to issue from the chamber with
the barred windows, — you fortunately being the
bolder of the key, — to pass into one of the rooms
with the Venetian blinds, and thence effect your
egress by the window ?"

" Such is the project," answered Beda : " but
it will not be unattended with risk and danger.
At the summit of the staircase, on every landing,
there is a door which is kept fast locked. If I
wish to issue forth from Zarah's chamber, I must
ring the bell in the landing to summon the nurse
to open the door at the head of the staircase.
Thus, you see, all the occupants of rooms on each
particular floor are confined to that floor itself ;
for even if their doors be open, they can neither
ascend to the floor above, nor descend to the one
below, without the aid of a nurse to open the mas-
sive doors on the landing."

" I understand, Beda. On what floor is Zai-ah's
chamber ?" I inquired.

"On the second floor," replied Beda; "and
therefore you perceive that on issuing from her
chamber, we must penetrate into one of the two
rooms with the Venetian windows which are on
the same floor. It will be a height of at least
thirty- five feet from which we shall have to
descend; and herein exists the danger. But
Zarah quails not thereat ; and as for myself, t
woald dare it were it twice the height."

" You are a brave girl, Beda," 1 said; "and as
for Zarah, she is far from being deficient in
courage. What more have you to tell me ?"

" The length of time occupied by Mrs. Beresford
in showing me over the house," continued Beda,

278

ELLEW PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRB3S.

" left me but a comparativelj little while for the
arrangement and digestion of this plan with Zarafa,
when we again found ourselves alone together. I
knew that I must be keeping you waiting, Miss,
— as the hour at which you were to be in this
neighbourhood, had arrived and was past : but
still I was convinced you would have patience."

" Oh ! I should have remained here until the
evening, Beda, rather than hare missed you. But
proceed."

"At length, my dear Miss, everything being
settled between me and Zarah, I rang the bell for
the nurse — surrendered her up the key of the
chamber — and intimated that I might be absent
for an hour or two. Moreover, in order to keep
up appearances, I whispered to her that she must
maintain a sharp eye upon Zarab, for that I feared
she might be wickedly incllaed towards any one
else, though I myself had the means of influencing
and controlling her. As I was passing through
the garden, I met Doctor and Mrs. Beresford, who
were walking there together. They stopped me
for a moment, and then inquired whether, as I
was going up into London, I should be likely to
see Captain St. Clair P I at once boldly answered
that I thought it very probable I might see him. —
' In that case,' said theDoctor, 'you can tell him that
the patient was carried off last night with as little
r.oise as possible : the landlady of the house readily
believed that Zarah's brain was turned, for she
t'aought she had noticed something wild and pecu-
liar about her. As for the rest,' added Doctor
Beresford, ' you can assure the Captain that the
patient is in safe keeping, and that his wishes shall
be carried out in every respect.' — I promised to
deliver these messages ; and now you understand.
Miss, why I said just now that I do not think it
at all probable any communication will actually
take place between the Doctor and Captain St.
Clair for the remainder of the day. On issuing
from the asylum, I came straight to you."

"Everything has progressed," I observed, " in
a manner favourable to our designs. When do
you purpose to attempt the grand exploit?"

"This is the main difficulty," resumed Beda.
" Immediately the dusk sets in — as I learnt from
Mrs. Beresford's lips — she herself makes the
round, locks all the chambers, and takes away
the keys."

" Indeed !" I exclaimed. " Then in that case,
Beda, you will not be the custodian of the key of
Zarah's chamber when evening comes."

" But I shall be in possession of that key up
till dusk," rejoined the faithful girl; "and the
attempt must therefore be made while the twilight
lasts, a quarter of an hour or ten minutes pre-
vious to the commencement of the old lady's I
rounds." I

"And if there be any persons walking in the
garden," I observed, "the attempt cannot be
made ?"

" We must not, my dear Miss," replied Beda,
with a smile, " flatter ourselves that everything is
to progress smoothly. There are difficulties to be
encountered and risks to be run in all ventures of
this kind. But it fortunately happens that at
the extremity of the passage on the second floor,
Zarah and I may this evening have our choice of
a front or a back room with undefended windows,
as the scene of our operations. These will be

rapidly conducted : and if we catch a glimpse of
any persons in the front garden, we must descend
from the back window — or the reverse, according
to circumstances. And now, my dear Miss, I
come to that point which relates to the assistanoe
that you yourself are to render."

" Only tell me the part that I am to play," was
my quick response, " and I shall not disappoint
you."

" We may escape from the window," continued
Beda; "but there will be still another escape to
effect — and this is from the garden itself. The
walls are very high, as you have doubtless no-
ticed : the iron gates are always locked— and there
is a watchful porter in the lodge. We must
climb that part of the wall which is exactly oppo-
site the extremity of the house where the vines
festoon about the Venetian windows, front and
back. But fortunately there are no windows in
the side of the house itself; and thus the escape
over the garden- wall at the point I have named,
stands little chance of being observed. Precisely
at sunset, you, Miss, must be in the neighbour-
hood, provided with a rope-ladder to throw over
the wall to us. Let the extremities of the cords
have stout wooden pegs, which we may drive
slantwise into the ground, so as to retain the
ladder fixed in a sloping position, you know— just
like the cords of a tent. Then a cab in waiting
at a little distance — and that is all you will be
required to do !"

I cheerfully undertook everything that I was
thus asked to perform ; and after a little more
conversation with Beda, in respect to certain
minute details, we separated. I hastened back
into London : and before returning to Hunter
Street, I purchased a sufficient quantity of com-
mon bell-pull cord for the manufacture of the
rope-ladder. On reaching home, I shut myself
in my own chamber, and set busily to work at the
task which I had in hand. This occupied me
somewhat longer than I had expected; for it was
necessary to fasten the various cross-pieces with a
considerable degree of strength, and also to intro-
duce two or three steps of wood in order to keep
the sides of the ladder conveniently apart. While
engaged with my labour, I reviewed everything
that Beda had told me; and I considered that the
chances of Zarah's escape were considerably in
her favour. Yet I was not too sanguine ; for I
saw that everything depended upon the absence of
any communication beiween the Beresfords and
St. Clair.

It being the first day of September, the sun set
at about a quarter to seven ; and a little before
that time I was in the neighbourhood of Norland
House, according to my promise. The cab which
had brought me, was concealed behind a clump of
trees at a little distance from the asylum ; and by
the liberality of my promises, as well as by means of
a handsome earnest of my good intentions, I gave
the driver to understand that there was some
business of a delicate and important nature to be
accomplished. I had the rope-ladder rolled up
into the narrowest possible compass, and con*
cealed beneath my scarf: I placed myself in such
a position with regard to the bouse that I could
obtain a view of the windows from either of which
the descent might be effected. And now, for seve-
ral minutes, 1 was a prey to the utmost suspense.

ELLBir PSBCT; OB, THB MEM0IB3 OF AN ACTRESS.

277

Those difficulties whicb I had hitherto glanced so
lightly at, appeared to take more colossal propor>
tions the nearer the instant drew when thej would
have to be grappled with. But I need not dwell
farther on all the hurried reflections that I made
during that brief period in which hope and fear
were thus clashing: 1 will continue the thread
of my narrative.

The last rays of the setting sun glimmered in
the hori2on ; and the interval of twilight suc-
ceeded. In a short time, as my eyes wore fixed
upon the spot where all my interest was now coa<
centrated, I could discern through the gathering
gloom some small white object within one of the
windows around which the vines festooned. Then
the lower sash of that window was opened : I
could distinguish the white object more plainly : it
was a kerchief that was beiog waved as & signal
to me : for both Eeda and Zarah felt assured that
I was on the look-out from some point where they
themselves could not distinguish mo. And almost
immediately afterwards I could discern two forms
at the open window ; and then a length of rope, or
rather of material formed of sheets and blankets
and curtains torn into strips, which were fastened
together, was rapidly unrolled from the window.
Ah ! it was Beda that was about to descend first !
it was she who had insisted upon testing with her
lighter form the strength of the rope, ere the
heavier person of Zarah should be committed to
it. For a few moments the young girl sat
crouching down upon the window-sill — I knew not
whether her courage failed her, or whether it were
that she was listening attentively for the last time
to assure herself that no footsteps were approach-
ing in the garden. Ah ! I ought not to have
fancied that she was deficient in fortitude even for
a single instant : for now she was grasping the
upper part of the rope — she was gliding down it
until the wall of the garden concealed her from
my view ! I just waited until I beheld Zarah
commencing the descent— and then I sped close
up to the wall, where I remained, getting the rope-
ladder in hasty readiness to be thrown over.

In about a minute my ear caught the sounds
of light footsteps on the opposite side of the wall ;
and a small stone or .piece of earth was thrown
over to me. This was a signal previously agreed
upon between myself and Beda; and I lost not an
instant in obeying it. I threw the rope-ladder
over the wall, making the extremity on my side
fast to the trunk of a small tree. A few moments
elapsed, during which Zarah and Beda were driving
the pegs on their side into the ground ; and then
I bad the satisfaction of beholding the counte-
nance of Zarah appear above the wall. Her escape
was quickly consummated ; and she strained me in
her arms. Beda's light form now dropped from
the wall ; and we all three hastened to the cab.
We took our seats in the vehicle ; and it drove
away at a rapid rate.

Zarah overwhelmed me with thanks for the part
which I bad played in thus enabling her to escape
from the lunatic-asylum ; and I proffered her my
sincerest congratulations on the event. We both
of us lavished fitting eulogies upon the conduct of
Beda in the transaction ; and when all these first
feelings of rejoicing had found their vent, I
thought it absolutely necessary to discuss Zarah's
future plans of proceeding. In the first instance

it was necessary for her to consider whither she
would go ; for I did not suppose that she intended
to return to the lodgings whence she had been
forcibly carried away. On this point I found that
her mind was already made up -. she had decided
upon going back to her former place of abode near
the London University.

We discoursed freely in the presence of Beda ;
for the young girl had proved herself by her
fidelity and intelligence to be in every way worthy
of this confidence. Indeed, Zarah had already
initiated her, during the afternoon, into many de-
tails of her late proceedings and her present plans
in respect to Edwin St. Clair.

" You must act with the utmost circumspection,
Zarah," I said j " for you will bear in mind that
Doctor Beresford, armed with a medical certificate,
may seize you wherever he may find you, and bear
you back to his asylum."

" I have not lost sight of that fact, my dear
Miss Percy," answered Zarah. "I have suffered
once through want of caution and through an
overweening confidence in the success of my plana
as I had sketched them out : but the lesson has
perhaps been a salutary one."

" And is it possible, Zarah," I asked, " that you
still think of linking your fate with that of a man
who is capable of so much villany ?"

" Nothing can alter that resolve on my part,"
rejoined Zarah : and as her eyes flashed fiercely,
she added, " I will compel hioi to take me as his
wife, were it only to punish him the mora eff'ectu-
ally. Ah, my dear Miss Percy ! my love has well
nigh turned into hate ; and Oh ! I must be
avenged ! If his proud spirit scorn me — if his
haughty disposition contemn the gipsy-bride, I
must humble him— I must bring him down very
low ! And this I will do."

Her lips were then compressed with the fiercest
resolution ; and for some few minutes there was
silence— for I was reflecting mournfully upon what
Zarah's destiny might possibly be if she persisted
in compelling that young man of dark villanies
and of fiend-like machinations to conduct her to
the altar.

"Yes," resumed Zarah at length, "my resolve
is irrevocably fixed ; and since I now find that it
will indeed prove a terrible chastisement for Edwin
St. Clair to make the gipsy his bride, it will bo
with all the greater satisfaction that I myself shall
inflict that punishment.— But here we are at the
lodgings."

The cab stopped in front of the house in the
neighbourhood of the London University ; and
Zarab, bidding us remain in the vehicle for a few
moments, alighted. After a brief interchange of
words with the landlady of the house, she returned
to us to intimate that the lodgings were not let
and that she could re-take possession of them. I
and Beda accordingly descended from the cub— the
driver of which was rewarded with even a greater
liberality than I bad promised.

"And now, Zarah," I said, when we were all
three seated in the parlour of the lodgings, " what
step is next to be taken ?"

" With your permission, my dear Miss Percy,"
answered Zarab, " I must continue to avail myself
of the assistance of Beda. By the course which
she has already adopted on my behalf, she has
thrown off the mask, as it were, towards those

278

SLIEST FEBCT ; 0£, THE MEUOIBS OV AS ACIKEBS.

who fancied that in her they possessed a docile ment to the proper authorities to-morrow, at
agent for their iniquities. St. Clair — who already the hour of noon precisely, unless this friend
knows that Beda is in your service, and who has should previously receive a counter-order from ray
doubtless been hugging the hope that she has not lips. This is the extent of the message which you
failed to administer the poisoned lozenges — will have to convey to Captain St. Clair. Fear not ou
now suddenly comprehend that she is imbued with your own account, Beda : with this threat hanging
principles and that she entertains sympathies over his head, he will not dare touch a single hair
which render her very different from that for of your's !"

which she has been token. He can scarcely fail ■ " Oh, I entertain no fear !" exclaimed the young
to suspect that i/ou, my dear Miss Percy, have girl, starting up from her seat : and in a few iao«
aided Beda in accomplishing my rescue ; and at meats the door closed behind her.
all events the faithful girl, by her conduct of this
day, has proved that she can no longer be looked
upon as a willing agent for the criminal inten-
tions of my wretched grandmother, Edwin St.
Clair, or Lady Lilla Essendine."

" Yes," I observed, '•' Beda must henceforth ap-
pear in a now light to the view of those per-
sons."

'•' And therefore," continued Zarah, " it cannot
be in the least prejudicial to your interests, my
dear Miss Percy, if Beda continues for the present
to serve me in the carrying out of my own
views ?"

"Decidedly not," I rejoined. "But even if it
were otherwise, I should not be selfish enough,

CHAPTEE XXVIII.

ZAEAH AND ST. CLAIE.

I EESOLVEB to remain with Zarah until Beda'a
return ; for I was anxious to become acquainted
with the result of her mission to St. Clair. It was
not now more than half-past nine in the evening ;
and I was therefore in no hurry to return to
Hunter Street, Zarah and I conversed together
during Beda's absence — which lasted for about an
hour and a half; and again did I endeavour to in-
Zarah, to consider my own interests in opposition duce my gipsy friend to reflect calmly upon the

to yours. "What can Beda do for you ?"

"You remember, my dear Miss Percy," con-
tinued Zarah, " that you once consulted me on a
particular project which you had in view as a
means of protecting yourself against the machioa'

proceeding which she was adopting in reference to
St. Clair.

" It is a delicate topic for me to touch upon,
Zarah," I said : " but still I feel it my duty to
approach it once more. What hope of happiness

tions of St. Ciair. You told me that you purposed \ can you entertain in forcing this man into an al-
to pen a narrative of everything you knew or j liance with you? You can never expect to win
suspected concerning him — which narrative you j his love ; and even if you did, the love of such a
should entrust to the keeping of some faithful i being— Oh ! is it not a frightful thing ?"
ffiend " "If he give me not his love," answered Zarah,

"I remember full well, Zarah!" I interrupted "I will give him my hatred. Perhaps it is in
her. "You dissuaded me from the plan— and I hatred that I am now acting; and if so, no
did not aJ-opt it. But wherefore do you make | wonder ! — for there has been too much of love
allusion to it now ?" j it has undone me and I will have a little

"' Because it has proved susfgestive to my mind of hatred. Yes, yes!— if St. Clair so wills it,
on the present occasion," replied Zarah. " You away with love !"

shall see how. — Beda, my dear young friend, I am i " But this is a fearful destiny, Zarah," I ear-
about to entrust you with a mission which I know ' nestly remonstrated, " that you are preparing for
you will execute faithfully; and I am likewise con- yourself."

vinced that you will accomplish it firmly and cou- j "And yet it is the destiny which I shall em-
rageously. "Will you proceed on my behalf to brace with satisfaction," she rejoined. " Oh ! my
Captain St. Clair ?" i dear Miss Percy ! with you I may be candid. Is

"I will," answered Beda. not my ambition to be gratified? Or call it

"If he be not already acquainted with the in- vanity if you will; and if vanity, it must be
telligence," continued Zarah, " you may inform ministered unto. In the eyes of the world St.
him that I have escaped from the asylum to Clair occupies a brilliant position: it will be a
which his villany had consigned me. But doubtless proud thing to become his wife !"
that intelligence Jias been by this time conveyed ; "And a dangerous thing, Zarah," I interjected,
to hioi from Norland House. Tell him, Boda, l "I shall be upon my guards" she instan-
that his triumph was of short duration, and that taneously replied. " When once we are linked
it has only rendered me all the more resolute in ^ together, our relative positions will be altered. I
carrying out my views, so that I may triumph in my shall have upon him the claims of a wife : the law-
turn. Tell him likewise that to-morrow, at eleven will be my protection; and as for the insidious
o'clock punctually, you will return to his abode to ; workings of those mischiefs of which, alas! he ia
conduct him to my residence— to which he must be only too capable — I shall bid him beware lest at
in readiness to repair under precisely the same cir- the very first cause which I may have to suspect
cumstances as those which I had sketched forth him of foul play, I suddenly lift the veil from
for eleven o'clock this morning. He will know before the dark mysteries of his life. And more-
what you mean. But this is not all, Beda. Tell over, my dear Miss Percy, you yourself must ac-
him that a written statement of everything I knowledge that matters between St. Clair and me
know concerning himself and Lady Lilla Essen- have now reached that point at which I cannot
dine is in the hands of a faithful friend of mine, stop and from which I dare not retrograde,
who is positively instructed to present that state. : even if I were inclined to do so. If I become

BLLEN PEBCT; OE, THB MBMOIES OF AK ACTRESS.

379

iiot his wife, he might plunge me back again
iuto a mad-house: but he will not dare take
such a step with cue whom be has deemed
sane and fitting enough to accompany him
to the altar. If he treat me only with cold
neglect, I shall care nothing so long as I enjoj
my due share of the wealth which be possesses—
the luxuries and the splendours which those ample
means may furnish. Let him, if be will, live in
one part of his house and I in another. Oh ! I
can assure you," added Zarah, her lips wreathing
with scorn and her large dark eyes flashing fire,
" he will not be enabled to break my heart by such
treatment as this '."

rinding that Zarah was fully resolved upon
pursuing the course which she had chalked out
for herself, I at length desisted from further argu-
luentj and we conversed on other subjects until
Beda's return. Her absence, as I have said, lasted
for about an hour and a half: it was therefore be-
tween ten and eleven when she returned to the
lodgings. Zarah and I both saw by her counte-
nance that her mission had been successful — at
least 80 far as the exaction of a particular promise
from St. Clair ; though I had still my own secret
misgivings whether ho would fulfil it, or whether
he might not even yet, despite the terrible threat
lield out, discover some means of evading it.

" On reaching Captain St. Clair's house in the
neighbourhood of the Eegent's Park," began
Beda, in explanation of her mission, "I learnt that
be was at home. I was at once conducted into
his presence ; and I found that be was in a furious
rage. He accosted me, his countenance white
with passion ; and bo accused me of having aided
in your escape, Zarah, from the lunatic-asylum.
I assumed a courageous demeanour : I even flung
upon him a look of defiance ; and I said signifi-
cantly, 'Yes, Captain St. Clair: I performed my
part in that transaction : and wheresoever I have
an opportunity of frustrating schemes of villany,
rest assured that I shall never hesitate to do my
duty.' — His countenance then suddenly underwent
a complete change : it expressed a sinister con*
fusion : his whole form trembled violently ; and
coming close up to me, ho said in a low hoarse
voice, ' Your words have a double meaning : you
have told your mistress Ellen Porcy everything

that passed ' But there he stopped suddenly

short, as if struck by the idea that he was about
to commit himself most unnecessarily and in a
most insensate manner. I at once divined, how-
ever, into what allusion his guilty conscience had
been about to betray him ; and again fixing my
eyes significantly upon his countenance, I said,
' Yes; there is no need for me to conceal the fact !
I have told Miss Percy everything that took place
between the old gipsy. woman and myself at her
cottage near Birmingham.' — Some vehement
ejaculation espressivo of rage burst from St.
Clair's lips ; and he began pacing to and fro in
the apartment in an agitated manner. — ' And you
have done this,' he said, at length stopping short,
'and you have been all the while a traitress; you

have been playing false to those ' But then

agaia he suddenly broke off, and with an impre.
cation levelled against himself i'or what he termed
his folly in giving way to the impulse of the mo-
ment, he renewed his agitated walk. I was not
in the least frightened: on the contrary, uie-

thought the more I could work upon his feelings
and surround him with terrors, the better I could
serve not only the purpose which I had in view
on your behalf, Zarah— but likewise the bettor
conduce to your own interests. Miss Percy."

Both Zarah and myself flung approving glances
upon the faithful girl ; and she continued iu the
following manner : —

"When Captain St. Clair had made three or
four turns in the room, I accosted him and said,
'You may henceforth tell those whom you choose
to employ for your iniquitous aims, that they must
not think to find an accomplice in the gipsy- girl
Beda. Do you suppose that for a single instant
I really intended to lend myself to the atrocious
views and objects of that wretched old woman,
who on the other hand is endeavouring to serve
1/oti only too vpell ? But I seemed to give a willing
ear to Dame Betty's instructions that I might
fathom the depth of the fearful scheme. Best
assured. Captain St. Clair, that every fresh step
which you take in your vindictive rancour or
your measures of wicked expediency against Miss
Percy, will only tend to place you more com-
pletely in her power, and furnish her with an ad-
ditional weapon to wield against you in case of
necessity.'— He listened in silence, but with a
ghastly look and with a strange wicked expression
of the eyes : it was dreadful to behold such a look
upon such a handsome countenance. I could not
help thinking of the fallen angels of Scripture, —
as you. Miss Percy, read of them one day to me,
in Milton I think it was, showing how they pre-
serve in some sense their celestial beauty, but with
an expression borrowed from Pandemonium itself
upon their features."

Beda paused for a few moments, as if still giving
way to the same thoughts which she had just ex-
plained and illustrated ; and then she continued in
the following manner :—

" Captain St. Clair made me no answer to ray
long speech : methought that he waited to hear
whether I had anything more to say, so that he
might ascertain to what extent his iniquities were
known; and I fancied that it would be better for
your interest, Miss Percy, to impress him with the
idea that you were acquainted with every detail
of his villanous conduct. I therefore went on to
say, ' In me. Captain St. Clair, you behold ouo
who is devoted heart and soul to the amiable and
excellent mistress whom she is proud to servo, but
whom you have thought fit to persecute. It was
I who fathomed all your diabolical intentions, in
which you were aided by Lady Lilla Essendine,
with respect to the treacherously-contrived yacht :
and so surely as you take each successive sti'p in
your iniquitous career, will heaven enable virtue
and innocence to triumph over your machinations.
You see that you can do nothing without being
detected: your deep design in regard to that yacht
was laid bare ; and yesterday you thought you had
for ever removed Zarah from your path ; but that
plot was likewise fathomed and has likewise bccu
baffled. You are iu the position of an enemy who
is surrounded by spies, and who stands upon a
mine which may explode at any instant.' — Tbus I
spoke to Captain St. Clair; and I saw that be
quailed at my words, that the conviction of their
truth was forced upon him, and that Lis guilty cou-
science was torturing him with a poignancy which

280

ELLEK PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIBB OF AN ACTKB8S.

\ras reflected in his couuteoance. Again he betook
himself to his troubled walk : at every turn he flung
upon me a glance which showed that he longed to
question me, but that he dared not. At length
he abruptly stopped short, and demanded, ' For
what purpose do you come ? are you a messenger
from your mis»re89 Miss Percy ? or are you for
the nonce serving the views of your friend Zarah P'
— ' It is Zaiah who has sent me,' I answered.
'Tou triumphed for a few hours: it is now her
turn to triumph, and her conquest shall endure
for a lifetime !' "

" Yes — you spoke well, Beda !" exclaimed
Zarah. " And what did he say ?"

" He folded his arms across his chest," con*
tinued Beda, — "I scarcely knew for an instant
whether it were in actual bravado, or whether it
were a movement arising from the desperate feel-
ings of one who saw that conditions which he
dared not refuse were about to be presented to
him as it were at the sword's point. But I
quickly perceived that it was the latter: for when
1 told him, Zarah, precisely what you had bidden
me say — when I repeated the words which you
bad put into my mouth, his countenance became
more ghastly than it was at first, his lips grew
ashy, and they quivered perceptibly. I assured
him that the- lesson he had taught you by his
treachery of last night, was not thrown away —
that you had taken precautions which would defy
all his ingenuity and all his artifice ; for that you
had committed to paper everything you knew con-
cerning him, and you cared not whether others
might be involved in his ruin if he were insensate
enough to invoke that ruin upon his head."

"Ob, you spoke well ! Tou executed your mis-
sion admirably !" exclaimed Zarah. " Proceed,
my dear Beda — proceed !"

" St. Clair muttered something to himself," con-
tinued Beda : " I did not exactly catch what it
was— but methought it was to the efl'ect that you,
Zarah, had borrowed a leaf out of Miss Percy's
book. I saw that he was terribly agitated, that
he was shaken to the very innermost of his whole
being, that he looked like a man who felt that the
entire fabric of his schemes was crumbling around
himself. I left him no time to recover his self-
possession : I knew that by dealing at him a quick
succession of blows I should be best serving your
interests. I therefore said, with as much impres-
siveness as possible, ' Zarah now insists that you
shall fulfil to-morrow, at eleven in the forenoon,
that which you have pledged yourself to accom-
plish to- day, and to evade which you perpetrated
that tremendous treachery against her. Shortly
before eleven to-morrow I shall be here to conduct
you to her presence. And now understand me
well. Captain St. Clair. If towards me to-morrow
you attempt the slightest treachery— or if you fail
to obey Zarah's mandates, she will allow matters to
take their course ; and at noon punctually her
friend will open the sealed packet confided to his
keeping, and place the contents in the hands of the
authorities. One word alone can save you ; and
Zarah's lips only can pronounce that word. It
will rest with yourself whether this word shall be
spoken by those lips ere the hour of noon
to-morrow !' — Captain St. Clair listened to me
vt ith a continued ghastliness of countenance ; and
when I had finished speaking, he still remained

gazing upon me for some moments longer, as if
he were under the influence of an awful con-
sternation and dismay. Then he slowly turned
round, advanced to the mantel, and stood there for
some minutes, with his back towards me. He
seemed to forget that the mirror reflected his
countenance, and that all the hideous horrible
feelings which were then conflicting in his soul,
were indicated upon his features. At last he
turned abruptly away from the mantel ; and ac-
costing me again, he said in a deep hoUow voice,
' Beda, it shall be done. But for heaven's sake
tell Zarah to do nothing rash : tell her that inas-
much as there will be certain preparations to
make to-morrow morning— a license to procure-—
a clergyman to have in readiness— I may not bo
enabled to keep so closely to the time as she
arbitrarily expects. Yet I swear that her wishes
shall now be fulfilled ; and as a proof of my sin-
cerity, you may tell her also that I confess myself
vanquished. When Edwin St. Clair makes such
an admission as this, it is that he only feels too
keenly that which truth constrains him to avow.'
' For your own sake, Captain St. Clair,' I an-
swered, ' I would indeed counsel you to attend to
Zarah's mandates ; for she is resolute ; and the
friend to whose hands she has consigned the
papers, is not a man who will neglect the instruct
tions that have been given him.' — Having thus
spoken, I turned quickly away, and glided from
the room : but I lingered alike on the landing
and on the stairs, in order to ascertain whether
Captain St. Clair took any steps to have me fol-
lowed so as to discover my destination on leaving
the house. The precaution was however unneces-
sary : the door did not open— no bell rang. I
issued forth from the dwelling : and I made the
best of my way hither. I feel convinced, Zarah,"
added Beda emphatically, " that Captain St, Clair
is a man who is completely beaten : be feels it-
he knows it ; and at eleven to-morrow you will
behold him here."

"Such also is my opinion," I said, "after
everything I have heard:"— for my misgivings
had now entirely vanished.

Both Zarah and myself complimented Beda
upon the manner in which she had acquitted her-
self of the mission entrusted to her; and the faith-
ful girl was rejoiced at thus deserving our com-
mendations. 1 determined upon leaving Beda
with Zarah for the night ; so that in case any mis-
chief should happen to the latter, the former would
be enabled to bring me the intelligence with the
least possible delay — though I looked upon the
precaution as barely necessary ; for Beda's narra-
tive had proved how St. Clair was discomfited, and
I felt convinced that he must know the gipsy
nature of Zarah too well to suppose that she would
on the present occasion leave herself open to be as-
sailed on any vulnerable point. I took my leave
and returned to Hunter Street. The Normans
fancied I had been making a variety of calls
amongst my acquaintances at the "West End; —
and in respect to Beda I had already accounted for
her absence from the house by stating that I had
given her a holiday to enable her to visit a respect-
able female whom she knew. It was a long time
that night ere slumber visited my eyes : for I was
kept awake by my reflections on all that had
passed during the day, as well as by a certain

ELLEN PKKCT ; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTEESS.

281

degree of suspense and anxiety which I expe-
rienced as to what n3ight probably bo the termi-
nation of the important matter in store for the
morrow. The morning's post brought me a very
kind and courteous letter from the Countess of
Carshalton, requesting me to call at the mansion
at my earliest convenience, as the Earl had some
communication to make. Although the object was
not specified, yet I felt convinced from the tone of
the billet itself, that my hope was about to receive
its fulfilment and that the pardon of my father
bad been awarded. I was therefore all anxiety to
proceed to Carshalton House; and I should even
have set off immediately after breakfast, were it
not necessary to await the return of Beda in order
to ascertain how matters had progressed at Zarah's
lodgings.

It was about half-past twelve o'clock, when,
being in my own chamber, I heard Beda's light
No. 36.— Ellen Peect.

footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs; and my
heart palpitated violently; for she might be the
bearer of good or of evil intelligence— Zarah
might have triumphed, or Edwin St. Clair might
have perpetrated some fresh wickedness. The
door opened — Beda bounded in — all my anxiety
and suspense were dispelled in a moment; for I
saw by the expression of her countenance that
everything was favourable !

" It is done !" exclaimed Beda; "and the gipsy
Zarah is the wife of the brilliant Edwin St.
Clair !"

" Is it possible ?" I cried, still scarcely able to
realize that which appeared to be invested with
all the fantastic wildness of a dream.

"My dear Miss, it is as I tell you!" responded
Beda, her large dark eyes being luminous with
triumphant joy, and her lips wreathing with
smiles above her pearly teeth. " I myself beheld

282

EIiLKN PEECT; OU, the ME1I0IE8 OP AX ACTRESS.

the ceremony! — it is accomplished ! — our gipsy
friend is St. Clair's bride— and he has borne her
to his home !"

" It is marvellous, Beda !" I said : " it trans-
cends all the wonders of the most imaginative and
preposterous romance ! That so wild a scheme as
Zarah's could have succeeded — that she whom but
comparatively a short time back, I beheld bare-
footed in the neighbourhood of Lady Lilla Essen-
dine's villa— should have succeeded in raising her-
eelf to the position of a rich and distinguished
tnan's wife, is something to which the mind
almost refuses its faitb, notwitstanding it knows
it to be true '."

" And it is true !" rejoined Beda. " But the
result has astonished me most of all : for I ex-
pected, when the ceremony was over, that Captain
St. Clair would walk away scornfully and con-
temptuously, leaving the bride behind him :
whereas "

" Tell me every detail, Beda !" I interrupted
her. " Begin from the commencement ! You
know how much I am interested in all these cir-
cumstances."

" The night passed," said Beda, " without any
incident to threaten Zarah's safety or security.
At half-past ten o'clock this forenoon, I issued
from her lodgings, and bent my way to Captain
St. Clair's house in the neighbourhood of the
Eegent's Park. I was informed that'be had gone
out at an early hour in the morning — but that he
had left a message to the effect that if I should
call before his return, I was to wait for him. Soon
after eleven o'clock he entered the room to which
I had been shown. I saw that he was exceed-
ingly pale— that he had a very haggard and care-
worn look— and that his eyes were somewhat in-
flamed— indeed that there was every indication of
his having passed a sleepless night. He closed the
door, advanced straight up to me, and said in a
low voice and with a forced composure, ' I have
kept my word in every respect up to this point :
but am I positively to suppose that Zarah is serious
in her intentions, and that there are no possible
conditions to which she will listen ?' — 'Her re-
solve is fixed,' I answered ; ' and you can offer
nothing to which she will assent,' — He remained
silent for a few moments, during which his face
seemed to become ghastlier, and his lips, ashy
white, quivered till he suddenly bit them as if to
restrain their tremulousness. Tiien he said, as if
acting under an abrupt impulse, while he grasped
my wrist so tightly that the fiogers which closed
upon it appeared to be made of iron, ' A
thousand guineas, Beda, for you, if you will tell
me who is this faithful friend of hers to whose
hands she has confided the sealed packet of which
you spoke tome last night?' — I shook my head
resolutely. — ' By heaven, you know and you must
tell me !' he exclaimed, as if maddened and goaded
to desperation. — Again 1 shook my head, my looks
quailing not before him. — ' Beda,' he resumed, ' I
said a thousand guineas; I will double the sum if
you will consent to serve me in this instance ! I
will moreover take you to a jeweller's, where you
shall select for yourself the costliest gems; I
will give you the richest wardrobe that gold can
purchase ; I will furnish a house for you in the
most sumptuous manner ; I will make a lady of
you; and I will for ever be your friend 1' — But for

the third time I shook my head; and never shall
I forget how ghastly was the look of disappoint-
ment which seized upon the countenance of Cap.
tain St. Clair. My dear Miss Percy, if I have
told you all these things which to such an extent
regard myself, it is for no purpose of making a
parade of my refusal of the temptations held out,
but simply in obedience to your mandate that I
should acquaint you with everything."

" Yes, Beda— omit not a single detail !" I said :
" tell me all that passed !"

" Captain St. Clair perceived that I was resolute
in resisting his offers," pursued the faithful girl;
" and after a few moments of speechless agony on
his part — for such I saw that it was — he appeared
by an effort to regain a forced and cold composure
— but. Oh ! how unnatural ! — ' Come,' he said ;
'conduct me to the place where Zarah awaits us.'
— He was then moving towards the door ; but
suddenly recollecting something, he stopped short,
and said in a low deep tone, ' Beda, in the pre.
sence of those who are to assist at the ceremony,
it is not necessary that it should appear as if I
were yielding to coercion.' — ' Not a syllable will
escape my lips, to convey such an impression,' I
answered ; ' and I can assure you, Captain St.
Clair, that Zarah's demeanour will be regulated to
the standard of your own.' — He said not another
word, but issued from the room. I followed him ;
and on passing out of the house, I saw a cab
standing in the street. It was not his own cabrio-
let: it was an ordinary public vehicle. — ' Now give
your instructions to the driver,' he whispered to
me, ' and let us proceed to our destination.' — I told
the man whither to take us ; and on entering the
cab, I found two persons already seated therein.
These were a clergyman and his clerk. St. Clair
took his place in the vehicle, which immediately
drove away. For some minutes not a word was
spoken : but I noticed that the reverend gentle-
man and his clerk contemplated me with interest
and attention. Captain St. Clair at length began
to discourse in a cheerful tone with the clergy,
man : but adept though he be at dissimulation,
he could not possibly on that occasion deceive
others as to the real state of his feelings. No
doubt the minister and the clerk must have sus-
pected that there was something strange in the
proceeding for which their services were enlisted:
but it was not for them to offer any comment.
The cab reached its destination ; and we all
alighted. 1 led the way up to the sitting-room
where Zarah awaited us ; and immediately on
crossing the threshold. Captain St. Ciair advanced
towards Zarah, whose hand he took ; and ho
breathed a few words in her ear, I have had no
opportunity of learning what they were: but I
have no doubt that they were to the same effect
as the injunction which he had given to me—
namely, that it was not to appear as if he were
acting under coercion. The demeanour of Zarah
was perfectly collected and composed; and not
once throughout the ceremony — no, nor even at
its termination — could the slightest expression of
ungenerous triumph be discerned in her looks. I
should observe that she was dressed with neatness
but elegance — with no indication of the bi-idal cos-
tume, — no white veil, no orange-blossoms! The cere*
mony progressed; and though St. Clair's cheeks con.
tiuued very pale, yet his demeanour was composed

ELIiEN PEECT; Oil, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS,

283

and seriou?, as was fitting i'or the solemn occasion.
That ceremonj terminated ; the certificate was
duly signed — Zarah took possession of it — the
minister and bis clerk withdrew. I was then all
suspense and anxiety. I more than half expected
that St. Clair would turn round upon his briue, tell
her that her ambition was now gratified, and that
their pathways in the world thenceforth lay in
different directions. As for Zarah herself, her de-
meanour was that of a calm dignity, whatever her
inward feelings might have been. There was a
silence of perhaps a minute— but certainly not
more, after the minister and the clerk had with-
drawn ; and then St. Clair said, with a voice of
cold politeness, 'Madam, I am prepared to con-
duct you to your future home. It is not my fault
if the preparations have been so hurried, and in-
deed have been of such a nature as to render it
inconvenient for a better equipage to be in attend-
ance than that which iJ now waiting at the door.
I presume that this young female,' he added,
alluding to me, ' has your instructions iu reference
to a certain matter to which I need not more par-
ticularly refer.' — ' Yes,' responded Zarah : ' this
fait&fulgirl will procure the packet from the hands
of the friend to whom it has been consigned ; and
she will commit it to the flames. You may rely
upon her.' — ' I know that she is perfectly trust-
worthy,' remarked Captain St. Clair ; and me-
thought there was a slight tincture of bitterness in
his tone, beneath its glacial surface, as if he re-
membered how signally he failed in his endeavours
to bribe and tempt me. Zarah hastened to em-
brace me in a most fervid manner : she then ac-
cepted the arm which her husband with cold
politeness offered her ; and tbey descended from
the room. He handed her into the vehicle, which
immediately drove away in the direction of the
Kegent's Park. I watched its departure from the
window ; and then I also left the lodging-house —
with difficulty however escaping from the torrent of
questions overwhelmingly put by the landlady and
the servant-maid, who intercepted me in the pas-
sage. And thus, my dear Miss Percy, all is accom-
plislied ! The once obscure gipsy is now the bride
of Edwin St. Clair ! I need not add that the part-
ing mission which was confided to me — of seeking
the faithful friend to procure the restitution of
the packet, and to commit it to the flames— was a
mere fiction, no such packet having been confided
to any such friend at all !"

" There is only one thing which I could have
wished to have been difi'erently managed," I re-
marked, as all the perfidy which had been accom-
plished by Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe towards
Juliet Norman came up into my mind. " I should
be better satisfied if some proof had been afibrded
that the clergyman was really what he represented
himself to be,"

" Oh, my dear Miss," exclaimed Beda, delighted
at being enabled to ease my mind on that point,
" there can be no doubt that the minister who
officiated was really the Reverend Mr. Calvert of

Saint parish : for amidst the multitudinous

questions with which the landlady of the house
sought to overwhelm me, she mentioned that
gentleman's name. She had recognised both him
and his clerk as they were taking their leave."

"I am indeed rejoiced to hear this statement,
Beda," I observed. "And now may heaven so

rule Zarah's destiny that she shall never repent
the step which she has this day taken !"

The same wish was echoed by Beda ; — and I
then proceeded to the mansion of the Earl and
Countess of Carshalton.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE PAUDON,

On arriving at Carshalton House, I was at onco
introduced into the presence of the Earl and
Countess, who received me with the kindest wel-
come ; and I saw by their looks that the hope
which I had formed was not destined to be de-
ceived, but that they had agreeable intelligence
for me. The Countess almost immediately began
by giving me the assurance that the secret of my
birth had been faithfully kept, and that not even
to aijy member of their family had they mentioned
the fact that I was the daughter of the delinquent
clergyman.

" And here," said the Earl of Carshalton, pro-
ducing a sealed packet of official shape and dimen*
sions, " is your father's pardon."

A strange wild feeling of joy seized upon my
heart at that moment : I sank upon my knees—
with both my hands did I clasp the hand which
profi'ered me that precious document : but the Earl
raised me up, and the Countess kissed me on both
cheeks.

"You know not, my dear Miss Percy," she said,
" the pleasure which his lordship" and myself ex-
perience in being enabled to render you this little
service. It is a free pardon, without any specific
condition contained therein : but remember, it has
been granted oiUihe understanding that the afi'air is
to be kept as secret as possible. It is an unpleasant
subject to dwell upon," continued her ladyship;
" but still it is necessary that you should be made
acquainted with certain particulars. His lordship
had perhaps better explain them."

" The explanations can be speedily given," said
the Earl. " Suppose, Miss Percy, for example's
sake, any individual recognising your father in
England, and having a spite against him, should
seek to hand him over into the custody of the law's
officers — the production of that document would
prove sufficient to induce any constable or other
authority to decline interference in the matter."

" Then, heaven be thanked!" I said, while tears
of joy rolled down my cheeks, "my father may
once again tread the soil of his native land without
apprehension of danger !"

With a heart full of emotion I poured forth the
expressions of my gratitude for the immensity of
the favour thus bestowed upon me : but the Earl
and Countess declared that they should still always
esteem themselves my debtors.

" There is now another thing in reference to
which I must speak," said the Earl of CHrshalton.
" Neither the Countess nor myself have forgotten
the interesting circumstance that your attendant,
Beda Robinson, is the daughter of those worthy
gipsies who restored our own child to our arms,
and who thus relieved our minds from an excru-
ciating sense of agony. Beda's parents were wont

284

ELtEN PEECr; OE, IHE MEMOIRS OP XIX ACIEESS.

to receive an annuity of twenty pounds a year : I
hare instructed my broker to place a thousand
pounds in the funds to the name of Beda Bobin-
son, under the trusteeship of yourself, Miss Percy.
Here is the document ; — and no^, at any time
when you may be desirous of bestowing some little
reward upon the young girl for her fidelity in re-
spect to yourself, you can communicate the fact
that she is not altogether without a provision for
her future welfare."

On Seda's behalf I thanked the Earl and Coun-
tess for this proof of a generosity which was be-
stowed in so delicate a manner ; and 1 promised
to fulfil to the best of my discretion the trust that
had been reposed in me. Oa taking my leave of
the Earl and Countess, 1 returned to Hunter
Street : but on my way thither, I resolved to say
nothing for the present to Beda in respect to her
good fortune. Kot that I feared she would be-
come elate to an extent that would effect any
change in her general good conduct; but I saw
that an attachment had sprung up between her-
self and William Lardncr— and being deeply inte-
rested in Beda's welfare, I did not wish her to
think of marrying for several years to come, so
that both herself and ber intended husband might
in the meantime have well profited by their expe-
riences of the world. Whea the time should ar-
rive that they might consistently with prudence
and discretion contract the solemn engagement,
it would be a happy thing for them to learn that
there was in store for them a competency beyond
whatsoever they might in the meanwhile have
earned by their own industry and good behaviour ;
and therefore, as I knew that a young couple are
only too apt to precipitate their marriage when
possessing a little fortune, I deemed it in every
sense better for Beda's interests that for the pre-
sent she should continue in ignorance of the Earl
of Carshalton's bounty towards her. She was now
only a little past fifteen ; and iRme few years
might yet be allowed to elapse before she began
to think of settling herself in marriage.

Immediately on reaching Hunter Street, 1 lost
no time in sitting down to write a letter to my
father, requesting him at once to come over to
England, as I had intelligence of the greatest im-
portance to communicate. I did not choose to
entrust the real facts to a letter, which by the
possibilities of miscarriage or mislaying might fall
under the eyes of strangers and thus reveal the
fact that under the name of Mr. Croft the iden-
tity of Mr. Percy was concealed : and besides, it
may be easily understood that I experienced a filial
desire of communicating with my own lips the
happy intelligence, and enjoying the effect that it
might produce at the time. I mentioned in my
letter how immediately on his arrival in England
he might communicate with me under circum-
stances of secrecy. By the same post I wrote to
Mrs. Oldcastle, to make her aware of the pleasing
change which had taken place in my father's posi-
tion : but I was so careful and cautious in wording
the epistle that though she would understand the
meaning I wished to convey, it would neverthe-
less remain unintelligible to any stranger unac-
quainted with previous circumstances.

Three or four days passed ; and during this in-
terval I learnt thbt the whole town was astonished
at what was regarded as " the extraordinary mar-

riage " of Captain St. Clair. It proved the subject
of a paragraph in the newspapers, under the head
of " A Romance of Heal Life ;" and was dished up
with all the art of the literary purveyor for the
public appetite. It represented " that Captain St.
Clair, the Honourable Member for ■, having
some time bock in his travels through England
been struck by the extraordinary beauty of a
wandering gipsy, was led to make inquiries con-
cerning her ; and he found that her character was
irreproachable. Being a gentleman," continued
the penny-a-liner's description, " who has always
manifested an exceedingly bold independence of
spirit and a lofty scorn for society's fastidious con-
ventionalisms. Captain St. Clair resolved to con-
sult his own happiness on a point in which it bad
become so deeply involved. He therefore inti-
mated to the handsome gipsy that if she would
qualify herself to become his wife, he would confer
upon her that sacred and honourable title. It may
easily be supposed that the offer was not declined ;
and the handsome Zarab, being brought up to
London under circumstances which proved Cap-
tain St. Clair's honourable intentions and noble-
minded delicacy of conduct, was placed in a re-
spectable family, where preceptors and governesses
were provided for her tuition. The heroine of this
romance of real life made rapid progress ; and ber
natural fatelligence enabled her not merely to
attain a rare degree of perfection in all the usual
branches of education, but likewise to endow her-
self with many brilliant accomplishments and to
acquire the most ladylike refinement of manners.
We believe that we may on authority assert that
during this interval of mental training, Captain
St. Clair forbore altogether from visiting the beau-
tiful gipsy, so that there should not be the slight-
est scope for the whisperings of scandal in respect
to her whom he intended to make his wife. At
length the happy day arrived; and the marriage
has been solemnized under circumstances of
privacy, but to the joy and delight of the happy
couple who are the hero and heroine of this
strange yet truthful romance."

In Buoh a style was the newspaper-paragraph
worded; and the moment I read it, I felt con-
vinced that its instigator, if not its actual author,
was none other than Edwin St. Clair himself.
From Beda's narrative of St. Clair's conduct on
the wedding-day, I had more than half fancied
that I understood what his policy was; and now
I felt convinced that I had rightly comprehended
it. His pride had led him to make a merit of
the necessity which had forced him into a mar-
riage with Zarah. That necessity he concealed
frooi the world ; and assuming a bold front,
he appeared to tell society that he scorned its
conventionalisms — he treated its etiquette with
defiance — he hurled at it the thunders of his
contempt from the lofty pedestal of indepen-
dence on which he had placed himself. It was
by that very independence — by the boldness
and the singularity of the views which he enun-
ciated— by individualizing himself, as it were,
and keeping aloof from any particular party — it
was by these means, as much as by his eloquence
and the trenchant power of bis oratory, that he
had obtained such note in the House of Com-
mons. When, therefore, the public had recovered
from the first shock of its astonishment at tha

ELLKN PEKCT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTRESS.

285

" extraordinary marriage," it began to seem less
extraordinary than at the outset : it appeared to
be a step perfectly consistent with the haughty,
Bcornful, independent, and somewhat cynical cha-
racter of Edwin St. Clair. To this eftect tended
the observations which in the course of a day or
two I heard pass upon the matter.

" Well," said Mr. Norman, at the breakfast-
table, when he had read the well dished-up para-
graph to which I hare alluded, " I always thought
St. Clair was no ordinary person. He used to
speak in a language that seemed entirely his own :
one never felt altogether at one's ease in his pre-
sence : you never knew whether there might not
be sarcasm in his jests, or irony when he might
appear to be giving utterance to the most serious
truths."

" And for that very reason," said Mrs. Nor-
man, " I always felt, if not exactly uncomfortable
in Captain St. Clair's presence, at least as if I
were in the company of a superior who made one
feel his superiority without absolutely proclaiming
it."

" He asserted it tacitly, as it were," resumed
Mr. Norman. " Upon my mind he always pro-
duced the effect as if be were looking down with
scorn and contempt, not merely upon those with
whom he found himself at the time, but upon the
whole world."

"When we repaired to the theatre in the even-
ing, Melissa Harrison said to me, " Everybody is
talking of St. Clair's strange marriage: but for
my part I do not think it strange at all. He is
the very person to do extraordinary things, of a
bold, striking, and dashing character. He has
never hesitated to let the world know how much
he despises it ; and this is another means which
he has adopted of hurling bis scorn and contempt
at the artificial notions by which society is go-
verned."

" And who shall say that he is wrong ?" asked
Mr. Bichards, who joined us at the moment on
the spot where we thus stood conversing behind
the scenes. " You will see that St. Clair's wife
will be visited and courted— I don't meau by your
very exclusive families who entertain as great a
horror of a mesalliance, or low marriage, as they
do of the plague — but I mean by a vory great
number of fashionable families. The step is so
bold a one that it inspires admiration for the man
who has dared to take it : and then, too, there is
the romantic interest which of course attaches
itself to the gipsy-bride. Every one will be
wanting to see her : curiosity will induce num-
bers to call at St. Clair's villa; and when once
they have gone to this extent, they must keep up
the acquaintance which they themselves will have
courted."

Mr.Kichards, having thus expressed his opinion,
was called away to settle some little dispute be-
tween an excited carpenter and an intoxicated
scene-shifter : but in a few minutes he came hur-
rying back, with the intelligence that Captain St.
Clair, accompanied by his bride, had just entered
a box in the theatre. The curtain had not as yet
drawn up : Melissa, Juliet Norman, and two or
three other professional ladies who heard the
lessee's announcement, hastened to peep from the
side of the curtain at the object of their engrossing
interest. They presently returned, declaring that

Mrs. St. Clair was really a very handsome woman
— that she was dressed with the most tasteful
elegance— and that her husband might well be
proud of her. They wondered that I displayed no
curiosity to catch a glimpse of her : they little
suspected how well acquainted Zarah and I already
were.

The curtain drew up ; and in a few minutes I
had to appear upon the stage in one of my favou-
rite characters. When opportunity served, I looked
furtively towards the box in which St. Clair and
his bride were seated. I saw that he was treating
her with a degree of attention sufEciently delicate
to suit the part of a loving husband which he was
playing, but yet suificieutly dignified as to be free
from all maudlin uxoriousness. Her own demeanour
was that of calm and modest contentment ; and
thus by their bearing towards each other they
afforded a corroboration for the impression made
by the tale which had gone the round of the news-
papers. I could not help thinking to myself that
the actors and actresses in this life were not merely
confined to the stage — but that they everywhere
abounded, even in the very boxes which fronted
the stage itself. The only difference was that I
and my companions were performing for money ;
while the actors and actresses elsewhere were play-
ing their part for the purpose of keeping up cer-
tain outward appearances.

At the conclusion of the drama, in which I had
been representing a favourite character, St. Clair
rose, gave his hand to his bride, and led her forth
from the box. I repaired to the Green Room, for I
had something to say to Melissa Harrison ; aud I
found her there in conversation with Juliet Nor-
man. They were both in their ballet-costume, for
the moment was approaching when they would
have to appear upon the stage. There were several
other members of the company likewise present;
and having communicated what I had to say to
Melissa, I was about to retire, when two gentle-
men somewhat abruptly entered the room. I at
once recognised Colonel Bellew and Lord Frederick
Bavenscliffe. The former I had not seen for a
long time; and the first glance which I flung upon
both showed me that they had been drinking.

Immediately on their thus making their appear-
ance, Juliet Norman and Melissa were moving
forward to quit the Green Eoom, when Lord Tre-
derick Ravenscliffe tapped the former upon the
cheek, exclaiming, "Well, 'pon my soul ! you are
a sweet beautiful creature 1"

The act would have been gross and insolent
enough even if they were utter strangers : but
considering everything that had passed, it struck
me as being the most wanton instance of cowardly
cruelty that I had ever witnessed. I was trans-
fixed to the spot with astonishment: but never
shall I forget the indignant expression of Juliut's
handsome countenance as she suddenly stopped
short, and drawing herself up to the full of her
noble height, exclaimed, " If I had a brother, my
lord, to protect me— or even if my father were
present, you would not have dared do this!"

Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe quailed visibly be-
fore the indignant girl ; and she passed forth from
the room, closely followed by Melissa Harrison,
who had no inclination to recognise, or be recog-
nised by, her heartless seducer. Colonel Bellew.
Almost immediately afterwards Mr. Richards made

ELI,E:^f PEECT; OE, THE HEM01B8 OF AN ACTEE88.

his appearance ; and he demanded, " What has
happened ? who has insulted Miss Norman ?"

" This person," I said, stepping forward and in-
dignantly pointing to Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe.
" If you, ilr. Richards, permit strangers thus to
intrude into the Green Room, I for one shall at
once break my engagement to appear at your
theatre."

My words were saluted with vehement applause
on the part of the other actors and actresses pre-
sent ; and Zvlr. Richards, feeling the necessity
of taking some decisive step, commanded Lord
Frederick Ravenscliffe and Colonel Bellew to re-
tire, under penalty of being instantaneously given
into the custody of the police. They were some-
what sobered by the serious turn which the inci-
dent had taken; and the young nobleman doubt-
less felt that he had indeed acted a most unworthy
part. He began to apologize : but Mr. Richards
peremptorily cut him short by ordering him to
depart. Colonel Bellew thereupon thought it re-
quisite to swagger and bluster ; but the actors who
were in the Green Room, rushed forward, seized
hold of both himself and the young nobleman,
and hurled them forth. Several of the subordi-
nates connected with the theatre sprang forward
to assist; and in the twinkling of an eye the two
offenders were summarily expelled through one of
the private doorways.

I proceeded to Juliet's dressing-room, where I
found her with her parents and Melissa Harri-
son. Melissa was ignorant of Juliet's secret;
and I saw how painful a struggle it occasioned
my unfortunate friend to prevent herself from
bursting into that flood of tears which might
have made Melissa suspect that there were cir-
cumstances which tended to aggravate the insult
she had received. Mr. and Mrs. Normau had
likewise considerable trouble in restraining their
feelings : but fortunately the scene passed off, so
far as outward appearances went, without leading
Melissa to fancy that there was anything more
than a piece of wanton insolence on the pnrt of a
young nobleman who had at one time affected to
pay his court to Juliet, but who had never in-
tended a serious proposal.

Juliet appeared upon the stage as usual : but
when we returned to Hunter Street (for I waited
on this occasion until the end of the ballet) — and
when we were alone together in my chamber,
whither Juliet accompanied me previous to re-
tiring to her own— she threw herself weeping into
my arms, exclaiming, " It has cut me to the very
soul to be treated thus !"

" Every circumstance proves, my dear friend,"
I said, " that Lord Frederick was totally unworthy
of the love with which you once regarded him."

"Yes!— fatal, fatal love of mine!" murmured
Juliet : then dashing away her tears, she ex-
claimed, "But this is weakness on my part!—
though heaven be thanked that in his presence I
was nerved with all befitting fortitude ! Oh, I
already hate that young man as much as I ever
loved bim!— and would to heaven that by some
means I might triumph over him !"

I reasoned gently but firmly with Juliet, — ad-
vising her always to adopt a demeanour which
should lead the noble young profligate to imagine
that he had become an object of perfect indif-
ference to her : for I knew that if he thought

otherwise, his ill-conditioned soul would rejoice
at the idea that he was an object of such import-
ance that a female heart could break on his ac-
count. Juliet promised to follow my counsel ;
and she retired to her own chamber.

In the afternoon of the following day, the post
brought me a letter conveying the intelligence that
my father had arrived in London, and that ho
would meet me according to the appointment set-
tled by myself in the letter by which I had sum-
moned him to England. At about seven o'clock
in the evening — when the Normans had set out for
the theatre— I repaired to St. James's Park; for
I had appointed ab the scene of our meeting the
very same spot where some seven months back his
safety had been for a moment so seriously com-
promised by the presence of Edwin St. Clair. It
being now the month of September, it was grow-
ing dark at the hour when I entered the Park ;
and I was just thinking to myself how different
were the circumstances in which I was now about
to meet my father from what they were on the
previous occasion, and how triumphantly he might
now defy the malignity of any such being as St.
Clair, when this object of my thoughts suddenly
appeared advancing towards me.

Yes— it was Edwin St. Clair, who was walking
slowly at first — but who on recognising me, despite
the gloom of the evening and the thick veil that I
wore, at once quickened his pace. I did not
choose to avoid him ; or perhaps I should rather
say that I knew the attempt would be fruitless; —
and t'aerefore I continued my way without swerv-
ing from it.

In a few moments we met; and Captain St.
Clair said, " The encounter is a fortunate one. I
had wished for an opportunity to see Miss Percy,
and express the immensity of my gratitude for
that boon which she has doubtless been instru-
mental in bestowing upon me."

At first he spoke with a monotonous coldness :
but a degree of bitterness speedily infused itself
into his accents; and the concluding portion of
his speech indicated a deep, fierce, concentrated,
savage hatred.

"You will permit me. Captain St. Clair," I said,
" to pursue my way. I have nothing to hear from

your lips "

"Yes — but by heaven you shall hear me!" he

vehemently exclaimed. " Doubtless you imagine

that this is your period for triumph, and that

having helped to wed me to the gipsy Zarah— — "

" Who has told you, sir," I demanded, " that I

interfered "

" Facts speak for themselves !" he interrupted
me. "Beda achieved Zarah's deliverance from
the lunatic-asylum ; and Beda is in your service.
Will you now dare deny that you were more or
less Zarah's accomplice? But do not think, Ellen
Percy, that all these combined schemes will either
tend to break my heart or to divert me from any
purposes that I may have in view. Doubtless you
have comprehended why Edwin St. Clair appears
proud and happy with his bride before the world !
Yes, you musi comprehend it — for you know me
well enough to fathom that truth! But if I no
longer live to love you, Ellen, 1 can live for re-
venorfi ; — and rest assured that I will accomplish
it ! Yes — revenge against all who have been in
any way implicated in dealing me this blow 1 Call

ELLEN PERCT; OK, THE HEM0IE3 OP AJf ACTUESS.

H87

upon Mrs. St. Clair, if you will " — and Lis lips
sent forth the bitter laugh of scorn as be thus
alluded to his wife, — " call upon her if you will,
and ask if she be happy ? Perhaps to your ears
she will reveal that truth which to the world she
must not proclaim. Ob, if there be a heart to be
broken beneath my roof, rest assured that such
heart is not mine ! And as for yourself, the time
must come, Ellen, when you will bitterly, bitterly
repent that you ever connived at the mischief
which has been wrought me !"

*' Let me pass. Captain St. Clair," I said, grow-
ing somewhat alarmed— for the obscurity of the
evening was deepening around us, in consequence
of the mist that rose from the ornamental water.
" If you dare detain me, I will appeal to the park,
keepers for protection."

"No," responded Si. Clair firmly: "there are
reasons which prevent Miss Percy from clinging
to the belief that I am so completely iu her power
as some antecedent circumstances may have led
her to imagine. She must doubtless experience
too strong a feeling of friendship for Mrs. St.
Clair to permit her to do that lady's husband any
harm :" — and here again there was a terrible
sarcasm and a withering irony in his tone. " Ee-
sides," continued St. Clair, "you know that I am
acquainted with a secret which vitally concerns
you "

"Ah! that secret!" I ejaculated, through a
feeling of joyousness at the conviction that it
could be held in terror over me no longer. " But
let me pass, sir !" I authoritatively added : " your
conduct is as cowardly as it is insolent thus to de-
tain me for the mere purpose of listening to the
threats which flow from your lipsi"

" One word more — and only one word I" ex-
claimed St. Clair. " You must not leave me with
the impression that I am in your power "

"What!" I cried indiguantly ; "not in my
power when your wickednesses are so nume-
rous "

"It may be so," he quietly interrupted me:
"but you will not expose them ! I feel convinced
that I was often frightened by you without a real
ground for my apprehensions."

"Whatsoever you may imagine upon the sub-
ject. Captain St. Clair," I answered, " will not
alter the actual facts. Wherefore do you molest
xne P I have shown immense forbearance towards
you ; and if you would but pursue your own path-
way in the world, rest assured that I should never
seek to cross it. But if you dare revive your fearful
machinations against me, on no consideration will
I hesitate to wield the numerous weapons which
circumstances have placed in my hands. Oh !
when I think of all you have done, I am aston-
ished at my own leniency towards you ! And for
the single reason that you have seen how all your
intrigues have been baffled, should the conviction
strike your mind that heaven in its goodfiess ^rs
on my side against you in your wickedness !"

" We will not argue the point," said St. Clair,
who had appeared tu be reflecting deeply for the
last few moments. "Pursue your way !"

With these words, abruptly spoken, he hastened
onward, and was quickly lost to my view amidst
the deepening gloom. Knowing the man so well,
I felt tolerably certain that he would watch me —
that he would follow mo stealthily— and that he

would trust to tUe chapter of accnients to puice
me by some means in his power ; so that 1 was
frightened to proceed : for though I had about me
the precious document containing my father's
pardon, yet I was very far from desiring a scene
of strife or contention with St. Clair upon the spot
where I was to meet my parent. For if such were
to arise, there might be exposure in the presence
of passers-by, I hesitated to continue my way ;
and yet I was loth to retreat — my father would
be expecting me — the hour of appointment was
already past — he might fancy that some accident
had befallen me or that his letter had miscarried.

" After all," I said to myself, " St. Clair can do
my father no mischief j and though any scene
would be inconvenient, yet I had better risk it
than leave my father a prey to doubt and uncer-
tainty."

Besides, I reflected that if St. Clair should
happen to meet him, he might give him into cus-
tody,— my unfortunate father being the while
ignorant that his pardon had been obtained.
Then there would indeed bo a fearful exposure
and a terrible publicity in respect to my father's
secret ! This idea suddenly gave wings to my
feet, and I sped onward. Thi mist was becoming
so thick that objects a few yards distant could not
be distinguished. It was therefore impossible for
me to conjecture whether I was being followed or
not : but I heard not the sounds of footsteps ; —
yet it was in a state of supenseful uncertainty
that I pursued my way.

" Is it not astonishing," I thought to myself,
" that this man who knows that I can reveal so
much against him, and who must necessarily
imagine that I am better informed in respect to
the details of the darkest of his antecedent cir-
cumstances than I really am,— is it not astonish-
ing that he should have the courage and the
daring to level his menaces against mo ? Yet did
he not say that he had latterly begun to think he
was less in my power than he had once fancied
himself to be ? Ah ! he supposes that for Zarah's
sake I would never go to extremes with him, and
that all my past forbearance must have rested
upon very strong motives ! And perhaps too, ho
is resolved," I added, with an inward shudder,
" that the next time he strikes a blow it shall bo
a final one, and that my lips shall be silenced for
ever at the same moment that his deadly revenge
is gratified !"

This thought filled me with apprehension;
for the deepening mist and the deserted park at
that hour seemed to aftbrd an opportunity for any
treacherous deed, even the darkest and the
blackest. I quickened my pace almost into a
run ; and in a fe'ff moments I reached the spot
where I had appointed to meet my father. A
form emerged from amidst the gloom; and the
next instant I was clasped in the arms of my
parent.

" Be cautious, dearest father !" I said ; " be
cautious !— for through this deep obscurity lis-
teners may steal upon us unawares. Let us walk
away from the neighbourhood of these shrubs in
the midst of which any one may be concealed."

We accordingly proceeded to a short distance :
we stopped in the midst of the gravel-walk close
on the brink of the ornamental water, and with
only a railing behind us.

" Now, my dear Ellen," eaid my father, in a low
but anxious tone, " tell me, wherefore this meet-
ing ? Your letter signified that the object was
important and far from disagreeable : I gathered
likewise that it closely concerned myself "

" And it does, my dear father !" I whispered.
" But hush ! Heard you not a footstep ?"

"No— it was nothing but the rustling of a dead
leaf along the ground. You are frightened— you
are nervous, my dear Ellen — "

" No — not now I am with you !" I interrupted
him : then after listening for a few moments, and
hearing nothing more to startle me, I went on to
say in a low voice, but which was tremulous with
emotions, " You have no more to apprehend, my
dear father— no one can now injure you !"

" Good heavens ! what mean you, Ellen ?" he
ejaculated, the excitement of his tone proving that
he had at once suspected the truth. " Can it be
that "

" It is, dear father, that you are pardoned !" I
responded, my heart leaping with joy as I gave
utterance to the words.

"Pardoned !" he wildly echoed, — utterly forget-
ing, in the almost frenzied enthusiasm of his rap-
tured feelings, my previous caution that he should
speak guardedly.

" Yes," I said, " you are pardoned, dear father.
And here is the precious document which dispels
all danger from above your head !"

I produced the sealed packet which I had not
as yet opened : but at that very instant a hand
clutched it from my grasp — it was not my father's
hand — and there was a third person on the spot !
A shriek pealed from my lips — a mocking laugh
rang in my ear — and that third person was darting
away, when all of a sudden an ejaculation of rage
closed that sardonic laugh of his. Then a female
came rushing towards the spot, where my father
in horrified consternation was supporting me in
bis arms; and the precious packet was thrust
back again into my hand.

"God bless jou, Zarah!" I exclaimed, catching
a glimpse of her countenance : but in a moment
she disappeared again. "Take it, father!" I
cried : " secure it about your person !— you know
how much depends upon it !"

I then hurried bim away from the spot.

CHAPTER L.

THE GTJILTT LATVTEB.

The entire scene which closed the preceding
chapter, took place with whirlwind rapidity ; the
document was lost and restored all in the space of
three or four instants ; and during this interval the
feelings of both my father and myself were hur-
ried through every variation of terror, dismay, sur-
prise, and joy. To my parent however the whole
proceeding was utterly incomprehensible ; for he
had not recognised the villain St. Clair in the in-
dividual who had snatched away the document.
Indeed he had appeared and disappeared with a
ghost-like rapidity.

I gave him some few brief explanations, — to the
efi'ect that Iho reason why I was so agitated and
nervous when I first joined him was because I

had just before encountered Edwin St. Clair— that
St. Clair it now was who had snatched away the
packet— and that it was his wife Zarah, whom he
had very lately married, that had so suddenly and
unexpectedly restored it to us. My father listened
in astonishment, as well he might : but I quickly
turned his thoughts into another channel, by ex-
plaining how I had obtained the pardon which he
bad about his person. The excitement of that
scene by which the document was lost and re-
gained in such rapid transitions, having passed
away, my father was now overpowered by his feel-
ings ; and embracing me fervidly, he sobbed like a
child.

" Dearest, dearest Ellen !" he murmured in
broken accents ; " to think that to you I should be
indebted for this ! — you whom, through my own
selfish fears, I suffered to be plundered of your
fortune by the villain Parks—"

" Do not reproach yourself, my dear father," I
said. " Believe me, it was a happy moment when
I received this document from the Earl of Car-
shalton !"

" It must have been, Ellen," responded my
father ; " for you are a good, kind, loving
daughter to me — and the more I contemplate
your excellence, the more thoroughly unworthy do
I feel of having such a child !"

" I am fully disposed to be happy, my dear
father," I said: "but every self-reproach that
comes from your lips only tends to mar the joy of
this meeting."

" For your sake, then, Ellen," he replied, " I
will forbear from giving audible utterance to these
self-reproaches : but, alas ! for the rest of my life
must I make them inwardly ! And now, Ellen->
since through you I have obtained my pardon, and
that I feel as if I were a different man, treading
upon different ground, breathing a different atmo<
sphere— since it has at length been permitted to
me to feel myself once more a freeman instead
of a shackled slave— the slave of my own heinous
crimes "

" For heaven's sake, my dear father," I ejacu-
lated, with passionate utterance, " cease this lan-
guage which drives me mad 1"

" Oh, what a wretch I am," he cried, " that
even in the very midst of my happiness the
iniquity of my life must turn all to bitterness !
Yet pray forgive me, Ellen ! God knows I would
not torture your gentle heart! And yet," he
added, in a softer tone, " you would perhaps have
greater reason for distress and ai&iction if you
beheld me callous, indifferent, or plunged only in
the rapturous feelings of a selfish joy. But be-
lieve me, my beloved daughter, I am an altered
man ! Crime stained my life and blighted all my
prospects : henceforth at least there shall be peai*
tence and atonement. And now know you, Ellen,
what are the first uses I shall make of the liberty
of action — the freedom from terrorism and intimi-
dation, which this pardon has procured for me P"

" I know but of one use that you will make of
it, my dear father," I answered ; " ond thot is to
retire into some pleasant but secluded spot, where
you may dwell in tranquillity of mind, and where
I will often visit you. This is the plan I had
settled on your behalf; and I am sure, dear
father, that you will be guided by the wishes of
the daughter who studies only your wellai-e ?"

ELLEN PEKCT ; OK, THE MEM0IB3 OF AIT ACTEE6S.

289

" I have two distinct duties to perform," re-
joined my father : " and then, Ellen, those once
accomplished, I will follow your counsel with the
docility of a child. But first and foremost must
I compel that villain Parks to restore the fortune
of which he and his still more vile mother have
plundered you ; and in the second place I must
compel Lord Frederick Itavenscli£fe to perform an
act of justice to your young friend Juliet."

" In respect to the latter, my dear father," I
answered, " if you really think that you have the
power, I would not for the world seek to deter
you from such a course. I know that it would be
making a seemingly ungrateful use of the pardon
which the Earl of Carshaltoa has procured for
you, to force his son into an alliance which could
be but little agreeable to that proud family : but
still justice must take its course — and the outraged
feelings of a too confiding and much wronged girl
must be considered in preference to the patrician
No. 37.— EiiLEir Pekct.

prejudices of the Earl and Countess of Carshalton.
Yet think you that without the exposure of your-
self, you could interfere in a matter so delicate^
involving so many difficulties "

" At least, Ellen," interrupted my father, " it is
my duty to make the attempt — and that duty shall
be performed. Leave me to conduct the enter-
prise according to my own judgment. In respect
to the other affair, my mind is equally resolute.
To-morrow you and I will together visit Mr.
Parks "

" This ia a matter, father," I interrupted him,
" in which you cannot and must not interfere. A
man who, like Mr. Parks, has perpetrated crime to
obtain possession of wealth, will cling to it with
the utmost tenacity : he will dare you to do your
worst— he will fight the battle with every weapoa
which the law can furnish ; and you, my dear
father, with your own uncorroborated evidence—
with your unsupported testimony Besides," I

290

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3.

suddenly exclaimed, " this would prove an under-
taking in which the exposure of all that concerns
you must become inevitable !— and I would sooner
see a thousand fortunes slip from my grasp than
that we should arrive at such a dreadful catas-
trophe !"

" Nevertheless, Ellen," responded my father, "I
say, as in the other case, that it is my duty to
make the attempt— and that duty shall be per-
formed. Great villains are sometimes terrified
when the thunder- cloud lowers above their heads
and threatens to break. At all events, perhaps
Parks may be driven into a compromise; and that
were better than a total abandonment of all your
just rights. We will see to-morrow what can be
done. Best assured however that for yoti^r sake
far more than for mine own, I would avoid every-
thing that might tend to produce an exposure.
You, my child, have already been sufficiently
humiliated in your own secret thoughts on your
father's account:— you shall not be humiliated
publicly ! Ihink you there is any danger of that
villain St. Clair proclaiming to the world whatso-
ever he knows concerning me, and all that he may
have heard passing between us ere now when like
an apparition through the mist he stole on us un-
awares ?"

" I do not apprehend the slightest danger on
that head," was my response. " St. Clair fights
bis battles secretly ; and like the bravo he stabs in
the dark. Doubtless, if he had ere now succeeded
in carrying off that precious document, he would
have given such immediate information as would
have visited you, my dear father, with a terrible
calamity, and would have led to exposure before it
could have been ascertained that the pardon "was
really amongst the records at the Home Office.
But now that he has failed he will remain tranquil
at least for a time," I added with a sigh, as I
remembered all his wicked threats. " However,
let us not think of him ;— but pray bear in mind,
my dear father, that there is every reason why you
should conduct all your proceedings with f je ut-
most circumspection, so as to avoid exposure."

My father reiterated the assurance that he
would observe all possible caution j and I then pro-
ceeded to inform him that I had written to Mrs.
Oldcastle to acquaint her that his pardon had been
procured — for I had already by letter made him
aware that in her I hao Jou.nd a relative.

"But you have kept her in ignorance of every-
thing that regards my fatal complicity with the
treacherous part that was played to your friend
poor Juliet P" — and my father spoke anxiously and
rapidly.

" Yes," I answered : " I have not suffered Mrs.
Oldcastle to learn that you have passed by the
name of Croft. I would not for the world that
either she or the !N'ormans should suspect "

"Enough, my dear child!" interrupted my
father : " I know that you are all carefulness and
caution on these points. But that name of Croft,
I shall bear it no longer ! At the same time,
Ellen, I will not resume my own name. It has
been tarnished by the incidents of my past life ;
and moreover, as you have promised to see me from
time to time in whatsoever seclusion I may retire
to, when the important duties which I have on
hand shall be accomplished, it will be necessary to
adopt such measures as to prevent it from becom-

ing known or suspected that I am your father.
You must pursue your brilliant career without
sustaining injury from such a kinship : in short,
my dear child, it must never be known to the
world that I am your father ! Pray give utter-
ance to no remonstrance — advano« no argument
against this decision on my part. Yet will 1 take
a name which belongs to the family, and which
may enable me to pass as your uncle. It is the
maiden name of your deceased mother — that of
Forsyth."

I said not a word in reply to this announce-
ment; for I could not help thinking that for a
variety of reasons it was a prudential resolve to
which my father had just come. By this time we
had made the circuit of the ornamental water—
we had left St. James's Park and were walking in
the Green Park. "We were therefore in the neigh-
bourhood of Piccadilly ; and my father said to me,
" T have kept you long enough, Ellen, away from
your home on the present occasion ; and you must
return thither. To-morrow, as I have already
intimated, we will call together upon Mr,
Parks "

" Por many reasons, my dear father," I inter-
rupted him, " I would sooner avoid that man and
that house."

'•'Oh! I have not forgotten, Ellen," he ex-
claimed, " what you told me at Eaibledon on that
memorable occasion when I announced myself as
your father. The villain Parks had used threaten-
ing language to you — he had sought likewise to
accomplish your dishonour by handing you over
into the power of this still greater villain St.
Clair ; and. Oh ! I long to punish both for their
misdeeds. But the punishment of the wretch
Parks is perhaps nearer at hand than you may
suppose. It is necessary, my dear girl, that you
should do some little violence to your feelings by
accompanying me into his presence to-morrow, —
inasmuch as you will have to corroborate much
that I myself shall have to proclaim."

My father then made an appointment for our
meeting on the morrow : he put me into a cab in
Piccadilly ; and we separated. I reached Hunter
Street in safety — reflecting the whole time upon
everything that had taken place between my
father and myself, — wondering what course he
would pursue in respect to Lord Frederick Ra-
venscliffe — and also wondering what would be
the result of his intended visit to Mr. Parks.

On the following day, punctually at eleven
o'clock, I entered the fashionable "West End
square in which Mr. Parks resided ; and I was
immediately joined by my father, according to the
appointment made on the preceding evening.

" Sustain your courage, my dear Ellen," he said:
" be not intimidated by anything that Parks may
hold out in the shape of menace. He will fancy
that he knows the point in which our cause is
weak — I mean the fear of exposure : but we must
deal with him as if we ourselves had already made
up our minds in that respect, and as if we were
determined to make any sacritice in order to ob-
tain possession of that whereof ha has defrauded
you."

By the time my father had finished giving these
instructions, we reached the lawyer's mansion
"We did not enter by the door communicating
with the clerks' office, and which was distinct from

ElLEJr PEECT; OE, the MBM0IE8 OF AN ACTEESS.

291

the private entrance : but we knocked at the
latter. The summons waa answered by the foot-
ttiAa in his handsome livery ; and as he knew me,
he said, " I know. Miss, that master is very much
engaged at the moment ; but I am sure he will
Bee you :" — and then the man looked as if he
wondered why so long a time had elapsed since I
last visited at that house.

My father and myself were conducted up into
the sumptuously-furnished drawing-room ; and the
footman said, '•' What name shall I take in ad-
dition to that of Miss Percy ?"

" It is not necessary to take any name," an.
swered my father. " Have the kindness merely to
say that Miss Percy and a gentleman desire an
immediate interview with Mr. Parks."

The footman withdrew ; and in a few minutes
the lawyer came bustling into the room. He was
no doubt a6 a loss to imagine what business had
brought me thither and how he himself would be
received by me : he therefore, with characteristic
hardihood and impudence, assumed an off-hand,
self-possessed, familiar manner, as he advanced
towards me, exclaiming, " Well, I am glad you
have found your way once more to ray house ; and
I hope that we now meet on better terms than
when " !

But here he suddenly stopped short; for my
father, who had been standing with his face to-
wards the window, and consequently with his
back towards him, now suddenly turned round ; j
and nothing could exceed the astonishment, min- {
gled perhaps with some degree of dismay, which i
seized upon the attorney. But quickly recovering !
his self-possession, he exclaimed, " Ah ! what am I ,
to understand by seeing you two together ?" |

" You are to understand, Mr. Parks," replied
my father, advancing straight up to the lawyer
and confronting him with a stern decisive expres- ,
siou of countenance, " that the day for mystery '
has gone by — as well as for all wickedness and
misdeed which might in any way have associated
itself with the mystery, either ou your part or on
mine. Ellen knows that she is my daughter : she
knows likewise that she was rightfully the heiress
of her grandfather's wealth : and she has come to ^
demand an account of your stewardship." j

For a moment Mr. Parks became deadly pale ; |
and he started slightly — while as if with an effort |
he repressed the stronger spasm which shook him !
inwardly. He glanced at me; and regaining all
his hardihood, he said, pointing to my father, " I
suppose, then, that you know everything which re- ]
lates to him ?"

" Yes— I know everything !" I exclaimed, my
cheeks colouring with indignation at the insolent,
supercilious manner ia which ho alluded to my
paren^.

" Oh, you know everything ?" ejaculated Mr.
Parka. " Well, then, you must be as much asto-
nished as I am at the boldness of his coming to
me in such a stylo:" — then advancing towards
the bell-pull, he took it in his hand, and said,
with a look of menacing significancy, " If I ring
this, you know, it will be to summon the officers
of justice to clear the room of at least one person
who is in it ?"

" Summon whomsoever you will," replied my
father, with a look and tone which at once dis-
concerted Mr. Parks. " I should not have come

hither unless in the full confidence that I am
stronger than the enemy whose camp I am in-
vading—aye, and in a position to set him at de-
fiance."

" What — what does all this mean ?" faltered
out Parks, again becoming pale, while his hand
dropped from the bell.pull. " You don't mean mo
to understand "

" I mean you to understand," interrupted my
father, " that I once again breathe in freedom and
in safety the atmosphere of my native land.
Summon hither the officers of justice, if you will:
but," he added significantly, "it is not I whom
they will bear away ! 3I_if crime has been expiated
by years of punishment and of suffering ; and I
am pardoned ! Tour crime has yet to be atoned
for — privately, if you will, and without exposure —
but publicly, and in a manner terribly signal, if
you hesitate to do this injured girl the justice
which you owe her."

" It is all very fine on your part," exclaimed Mr.
Parks, assuming a look and attitude of defiance,
" to come here thinking to bully me into some-
thing— I know not what : but I can see through
the trick '

" Behold !" exclaimed my father ; and he pro-
duced from his pocket the official document pro-
claiming his pardon : but at the same time he
took care that the villain Parka should not have
an opportunity of snatching it from his hand.

"Well, and what then?" exclaimed the attor-
ney, who had again looked discomfited, but who
quickly recovered, if not his self-possession, at
least an insolent hardihood that served him as a
substitute. " You have got your pardon, and so
much the better for you. But I don't suppose
that either of you would be very well pleased for
the facts of the case to be made public and for all
the newspapers to prochiiii — -■"

" Stop, Jklr. Parks !" interrupted my father,
calmly and decisively : " this turn will not serve
you. Make what exposure you will— but you
shall not the less disgorge this defrauded girl's in-
heritance. You may tell the whole tale, and she
will abandon her profession in consequynce : but
the fortune to which she ia entitled, and which with
all accumulations of interest and compound in-
terest you shall surrender up, will serve her as a
handsome maintenance. Moreover, Mr. Parks,
! since exposure is to be the order of the day, there
' can be no earthly reason why we should have any
consideration for you."

1 Thus speaking my father advanced towards the
nearest; window ; and placing his hands to the
sash, made a motion as if he were about to raise it.

" Come now — what the deuce are you going to
do?" ejaculated the lawyer, who was evidently
i frightened. " Let you and me talk this matter
over in the next room."

j '•' No, sir !" responded my father : "everything

i that is said or done shall bo in the presence of my

daughter. You asked me what I was about to do

1 — and I will tell you," he continued, his band still

i upon the window-snsh. " You behold the police-

I man who is coming this way round tho Square : it

ia my intention to summon him to take into cua-

I tody a man whom I shall charge with forgery,

fraud, and embezzlement,"

" Don't be so foolish ! Miss Percy— I beg of
you— Ellen, my dear girl "

292

ElLESr PEECT : OH, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE9S.

" Dare not, sir," I indignantly exclaimed, " ad-
dress mo iu that familiar strain ! You know futt
well, Mr. Parks, whether I have wrongs to com-
plain of at your hands, — wrongs which consist not
merely of the plunder of my fortune !"

" Speak, sir !" cried my father : " will you drive
me to extremes ? The constable is now under the
window."

"By heaven!" ejaculated Parks, his counte-
nance now white as a sheet, " it will bo a war to
the knife ! — the exposure on both sides will be
terrific!"

" Your answer, sir ? Quick ! quick !" exclaimed
my father : and he threw up the window-sash.

" In the name of God, don't expose me !" said
the miserable wretch, in a tone of the most earnest
entreaty J and nothing could exceed the ghastly
horror of his looks. " I will do everything I can

—I will restore But for God's sake shut that

window !"

" You have promised," said my father } " and I
rely upon the fulfilment of your pledge. If you
fail to keep it, rest assured that I will inexorably
invoke the aid of justice."

Thus speaking, my father closed the window ;
and Parks, i\pw utterly overpowered by the agony
of bis feelings, sank upon a chair. There he re-
mained for some minutes, a most piteous and
abject spectacle — his countenance ghastly pale —
his lips quivering — his eyes staring in wild va-
cancy. My father flung upon me a significant
look, as much as to imply that the victory was
our own, and that we should succeed in com-
pelling the villanous attorney to disgorge his ill-
gotten possessions.

" Now listen to me, Mr. Parks," said my father,
at length breaking the silence which had for some
minutes prevailed. " It is idle to suppose that
you have retained the original will which the de-
ceased Mr. Forsyth made in his granddaughter's
favour, and which fell into the hands of your
mother. But you forged another will ; and that
was doubtless for precisely the same sum as the
original. Your mother proved and administered
to the forged will — the record can be examined —
we are already aware that Mr. Forsyth died worth
somewhere about thirty thousand pounds — but
that record to which I allude will furnish the
exact amount "

"It was thirty thousand pounds," said Parks,
in a voice so changed, so hollow, so sepulchral,
that I started ; for it struck me at the instant as
if it were a voice coming up from the very tomb
itself.

" Thirty thousand pounds," repeated my father.
" And you have doubtless doubled that amount —
you are exceedingly rich, Mr. Parks— and you will
experience no difficulty in raising the sum within
a few days. Name your own timej but let the
interval be brief— let there be no subterfuge nor
delay — or you will find that you have to deal with
one who in proving merciless will thereby avenge
past injuries of every description. And in respect
to the whole transaction itself, you must expect to
be treated by us as we shall find ourselves treated
by you. If you proclaim to the world aught that
may prejudice my daughter's interests — for I
myself have none save those which are centred in
her — we on our side shall scarcely hesitate to give
equal publicity to the fact that Mr. Parks, the

eminent solicitor, has been fattening on the pro-
duce of forgery and fraud of the most heinous de-
scription. Now, sir, name your own day — your
own hour — when you will be prepared to surren-
der up to my daughter the fortune of which she
was dispossessed by the iniquity of your mother
and yourself."

The miserable attorney— a more abject spectacle
than ever in human form had met my eyes-
gasped forth a few words to the efifect that on
that day week, and at the same hour, he would be
prepared to comply with my father's demand ;
and then he literally moaned in the bitterness of
his anguish.

" Come, Ellen," said my father : and taking me
by the hand, he led me from the apartment.

When we quitted the house, my father began
pouring forth the most fervid congratulations at
the prospect of the wealth which was so soon to
shower itself upon me : but the entire closing part
of the scene had acted on my mind with the in-
fluence of a bewildering consternation — so that I
conld scarcely fancy that it was otherwise than a
dream. At length I gradually awoke as it were
to the consciousness that it was all a reality ; and
then I was lost in stupendous dismay at the fear-
ful guilt of which the late Mrs. Parks and her
son had been culpable. Though from my father's
lips at Embledon I had heard the announcement
of this guilt, yet it had always seemed vague and
visionary to me, until this moment when it was so
incontestably proved. It was some time before I
regained the power of utterance ; and when I
began to thank my father for the course which he
had adopted, he cut me short by observing, " We
must not be seen too much together, Ellen. Fare-
well for the present, my dear girl. I will write
to you when next we are to meet."

We then separated ; and I returned to Hunter
Street, still more or less under the influence of
consternation and wonderment at the scene which
had taken place.

CHAPTEE LI.

HTDE PAEK.

Feeling somewhat unsettled in my mind —
though far from unhappily so — iu consequence of
all that had occurred, I could not compose myself
to reading or any of my usual avocations; and
therefore, after luncheon, I proceeded to the West
End of the town to make a call or two, in order
to divert my thoughts from dwelling too much
upon one train of ideas. The first visit that I
thus purposed to pay was at the mansion <)£ the
Marquis of Campanella; and on arriving there, I
found that the Marquis and Marchioness them-
selves had gone on an invitation to Windsor
Castle, and that the Countess of Carboni was just
sitting down to write a note to the effect that she
was all alone in the house and that she should be
glad to see me. Accident had therefore willed it
that my visit should be exceedingly well-timed ;
and after some little conversation, I3eatrice pro-
posed that we should take a drive in the Park. I
readily assented— the carriage was ordered — and
to the Park we repaired.

EMEN PEECT; OK, THE MEM0IE3 OP a:S ACTEESS.

293

I way here observe that six months had now
elapsed since those memorable events which had
so clearly demonstrated the innocence of Beatrice
di Carboni, and since the disappearance of her
husband. During this interval she had heard
nothing more of the Count : all trace of him
seemed to have been lost ; and whether he had
actually retired from the world into some deep
seclusion, or whether he were wandering about a
forlorn and desolate being, it was scarcely possible
to conjecture, — unless indeed the assurance which
he had given the English solicitor could be relied
upon, that retirement from the busy scenes of life
was veritably his intention. But still Beatrice could
scarcely bring herself to the idea that a man of
so restless a disposition and of such strong and
excitable feelings could calm himself down into
that temperament which was appropriate to the
secluded existence of an anchorite.

On reaching the Park, we made the tour of the
carriage-drive; and we then alighted to walk for
a little while. Although it was the month of
tseptember, and " the world of fashion " had for
the most part gone out of town, yet there was
more than the usual number of equipages, eques-
trians, and pedestrians than might have been ex-
pected at that autumnal season of the year. The
Countess and myself had not walked together
many minutes, before I was startled by seeing an
individual whose countenance was at once recog-
nised by me, pass us hastily by. This was none
other than Luigi, the treacherous Italian valet
who had been the author of all the misfortunes
that had overtaken the Countess. He was pro-
ceeding swiftly at the moment — but whether it
were because he had recognised us, and was
anxious to avoid observation, I could not tell ; for
he seemed to be looking straight forward, as if not
perceiving us at all. Beatrice happened to be
glancing at the moment at a troop of equestrians
who were dashing past; and I instantaneously
resolved not to mention to her the circumstance
which had just startled me, for fear lest it should
arouse bitter and painful feelings in her bosom.

We continued our way ; and presently, when
in the neigbourhood of the Achilles statue, I dis-
cerned, at a little distance in front, a couple whom
I recognised at a glance, though their backs were
towards us. These were Captain and Mrs. St.
Clair.

Zarah was leaning upon her husband's arm : he
was walking with the air of a man who expe-
rienced a dignified pride in his handsoaae wife ;
and I felt convinced that he thus paraded her in
a public resort for the purpose of sustaining the
general impression that he gloried in what ho had
done, he defied the opinion of the world, he
scorned whatsoever superciliousness his marriage
might be regarded with — and in short, that he
adhered to his policy of making a merit of
the necessity which had forced such a wife upon
him.

" You have perhaps heard," I said to Beatrice,
"of the alliance of the well-known Captain St.
Clair with a lady of gipsy extraction ?"

"Yes," responded the Countess: "I read some-
thing about it in the newspapers — and I heard
ray brother-in-law the Marquis expressing his
astonishment a day or two ago at the occur.
renee."

" Captain St. Clair and his wife are in front of
you," I said : but I did not think it necessary to
add that this gipsy-wife of his was none other
than the identical Zarah to whom the Countess of
Carboni was so much indebted for having elicited
from the lips of Luigi so many facts that were
vitally important to herself.

Scarcely had I pointed out the couple to
Beatrice, when a party of equestrians came ca-
reering past. These were gentlemen and ladies
mounted on beautiful steeds; and amongst the
former I at once recognised Colonel Bellew— while
amongst the latter I beheld Lady Lilla Essendine.
I was now seized with a sudden curiosity to ob-
serve how they would treat St. Clair as they
rode past. That the unprincipled Belle w had at
one time been his creature, I was well aware frora,
my own experience on the occasion when ^. Claic
had affected to rescue me from the Colonel's
power, and which occurrence was followed by the
sham-duel. As for Lady Lilla Essendine, that
there had been a guilty connexion between herself
and St. Clair I had long felt certain. I kne(7
that she entertained a burning hatred and fierce
vindictiveness towards him, although circum-
stances had led them, from an identity of theic
sinister interests, to act at times in concert. BuC
now, in what manner would St. Clair be treated
by that man who was lately his creature— no doubt
his paid hireling ? and by that woman who was
once the object of his criminal love ?

Lady Lilla Essendine certainly had an elegant
appearance upon horseback. The riding-habit set
off her fine tall figure to the most admirable ad-
vantage, — displaying all the flowing outlines of
that symmetry which was adjusted to a blending
of the proportions of the Hebe and the Sylph.
Her cheeks — usually pale, though always with an
animation of the polished skin — had now a colour
upon them, imparted by the exhilaration of the
exercise she was taking. She sat with an exceed-
ing gracefulness upon the steed, — which, though a
somewhat spirited animal, she managed with aa
easy expertness. Her statuesque carriage of the
head, neck, and bust, which always had something
queenly in it, added to the imposing majesty of her
present appearance. No one unacquainted with
the secrets of her heart — no one but those who
had peeped behind the veil which covered the
mysteries of her life — could have fancied that a
being at once so brilliant, so fascinating to all
outward seeming, as well as so amiable in her
looks, could possibly possess a soul stained witU
crimes as dark as those which had given an infa.
mous repute to such fiends in angel shapes as tho
Marchioness of Brinvilliers or Lucrezia Borgia.

But to the thread of my story. St. Clair and
his wife were pursuing their way, — he appearing
to be conversing with cheerfulness and fond fami-
liarity, and she playing her own part as well, by
listening and answering as if with a full con-
sciousness that she was in reality the pride, the
joy, and delight of her husband. The party of
equestrians reined in their steeds, when they in
the carriage. drive came abreast as it were with
Captain and Mrs. St. Clair on the footway.

" Ah, my dear fellow St. Clair !" exclaimed
Colonel Bellew in a loud bantering voice : " play-
ing the part of a happy bridegroom, I see ? 'Pon
honour, it is delightful and affecting !"

294

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE88.

" Oh, indeed i is that the gipsy-bride ?" said
Lady Lilla Essendine : and her laugh rang mock-
ingly with its silvery sounds through the air.

Indescribable was the look of loftiest disdain
which St. Clair for a moment flung upon them.
There was no hatred uor vindictiveness in that
look : it seemed as if he could condescend to no-
thing so low or petty as those sentiments : it was
a proud sovereign scorn such as a monarch might
have bestowed on the meanest of his subjects. !No
one, unacquainted with the secrets of their former
connexion, would have for an instant suspected
that such had ever been the case. Bellew laughed
aloud : the silvery mocking laugh again rang from
the lips of Lady Lilla Essendine; and the eques-
trian party dashed along upon its way.

Beatrice and myself were sufficiently near to
distinguish everything that thus passed : but the
momeutfthe scene was over, I turned abruptly
round, hurrying the Countess away in the opposite
direction ; for I was already vexed with myself
that I should have yielded to that momentary im-
pulse of curiosity. I cannot say that I actually
pitied Zarah; for I knew full well that she pos-
sessed a strength of mind which would render her
scornfully indifferent to everything that had just
passed. For St. Clair I could of course have no
commiseration : but still I should have been un-
willing for him to suppose that I possessed a spirit
mean or paltry enough to be there, looking on, for
the purpose of triumphing over him. However,
I felt tolerably well persuaded that he had not
observed me; while, as for Zarah, she had never
once turned her head sufficiently to look behind
her.

" Captain St. Clair," said Beatrice, "is perform-
ing a noble part towards the wife wh'M) through
pure affection he has made the sharer o\ his for-
tunes. Did you observe, my dear Ellen, the
withering, blighting look of scorn which ho flung
upon that lady and gentleman ? Their conduct
was indeed too bad ; and I wonder that a person
of such an interesting appearance as that lady
could have shown such bad taste and such un-
charitable feelings. But see !" exclaimed Beatrice,
glancing back over her shoulder; "Captain and
Mrs. St. Clair are now engaged in conversation
with a group of ladies and gentlemen, who are
evidently treating them both with a marked dis-
tinction."

I also glanced bacV, and perceived that such
was the case. I then recollected the observations
which Mr. Eichards had made at the theatre— to
the effect that while some persons would display a
mean and petty contempt for the alliance which
St. Clair had formed, others would court himself
and his bride from curiosity's sake, as well as on
account of his own brilliant position in the world.
I now saw that the lessee's shrewd predictions
were receiving their fulfilment.

At the very moment when I thus glanced back,
two tall, elderly, and very distinguished-looking
personages were parting from Captain and Mrs.
St. Clair, — warmly shaking hands with the former,
and with marked courtesy raising their hats to the
latter. These two gentlemen came on, arm-in-arm,
in the same direction which Beatrice and I were
now pursuing. As they walked quickly, they soon
overtook us : but they lingered a little while be-
Linii, slackening their pace in proportion as their

conversation grew more and more interesting to
themselves : then they passed us ; but when in
front, thoy still remained for some few minutes
longer sufiiciently near for the Countess and me
to catch all that they were saying. I will place
upon record as much of their discourse as thus
reached our ears.

" Well, never mind the folly of the thing," said
one of the two personages: "it suited us ex-
tremely well to flatter St. Clair by overwhelming
him with such marked civilities, and by paying
such distinguished attention to his wife. It came
all the more opportune, immediately following on
the heels of that little scene — which, by the bye,
St. Clair so loftily resented."

" And what good, my lord, do you expect,"
said the other individual, " will result from our

demeanour "

" Why, my dear fellow, don't you see ?" ex-
claimed the first speaker, who was evidently a
nobleman, " we are now sure of St. Clair ! It is
of no use his affecting to ride the high horse— he
mustieel that he has placed himself in a false posi-
tion. Besides, as he his married this gipsy
through love, he will naturally be well pleased that
she should be received into the highest society.
To-morrow I will invite St. Clair to dinner ; and
her ladyship " — thus alluding to his wife — " shall
call upon Mrs. St. Clair."

" But do you really think it possible," asked his
companion, " that St. Clair is a man to be won
over by such means ?"

" I am convinced of it ! At all events you shall
see. His independence of all party has hitherto
rendered his opposition — when he lias opposed us—
all the more powerful in its effects. You must un-
derstand, my dear fellow, that to gain him en-
tirely to our side would be a great card in our
hand. Wo might offer him a Treasury Secre-
taryship— or the Vice-Presidency of the Board of
Trade — or something of that sort. I will throw

out a hint when he dines with me "

This was all of the discourse which reached the
cars of the Countess of Carboni and myself : but
it was intelligible enough. Those were two Cabinet
Ministers : the Cabinet itself was known to bo
tottering : public opinion declared that it would
be unable to meet Parliament at the next Session ;
and thus a very pretty little intrigue was just -et
afoot to strengthen the decrepit Ministry by means
of the unquestionable talent and the brilliant
oratory of Edwin St. Clair.

" You have heard what has passed, my dear
Ellen ?" said Beatrice, when the two Ministers
were beyond earshot. " Captain St. Clair's mar-
riage will prove the making of him as a great
public character."

I gave some casual reply : but I secretly said to
myself, " If St. Clair should trim his bark to the
tide which now offers to waft it, he will have,
reason to rejoice in his marriage with the obscure
gipsy, rather than regard her as his bitterest foe —
to persecute her — and to strive to break her heart."
Tiie Countess and I now re-entered the carriage ;
and we left the Park. She took me as far as
Hunter Street, where she set me down : and I bade
her adieu. It w.as not until I found myself alone
in my own chamber, that I recalled to mind the
incident in respect to Luigi. Although the pre-
sence of the Italian in the Park might have been

EXLEIf PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

295

quite accidental, jot on theotber hand I could not
help a slight misjiivitig to tho effect that it might
be more or less omiuous : for i know how terribly
vindictive was his character. He had sought in
Italj to wreak the deadliest vengeance upon the
unfortunate Beatrice ; and more recently he had
endeavoured to vent his vindictive rage upon
Zarah, at the moment when he learnt that she had
merely played a part in eliciting from his lips the
Bccrets of his heart. I almost regretted that I had
not mentioned to the Countess his presence in the
Park : and I longed for an opportuuity of hinting
to Zarah herself that he was in the metropolis.
Indeed, I began to think so seriously on tliese sub-
jects that I penned a letter to Beatrice, and I was
thinking how I should contrive to communicate
with Mrs. St. Clair, when the afternoon's post
brought me a billet from her. It was to the effect
that if by any possibility I could manage to be in
the Eegent's Park at one o'clock on the morrow,
she would meet me there : but for fear lest her
letter should awaken in my mind any apprehen-
sions of mischief, she considerately added that it
was in no way in reference to aught regarding my-
eelf that she wished to see me, bnt simply for the
purpose of a little friendly discourse.

I resolved to keep this appointment; for I felt
satisfied that Zarah would so arrange matters that
our meeting should pass totally unobserved by her
husband; and accordingly, on the following day,
1 proceeded to the Regent's Park at the hour
unmed. I met Zarah at the spot indicated in her
li'tter; and she pressed my baud with the warmest
effusion. She looked exceeding well, and in no
v.ay as if she were « wife whose heart was break-
iug through the secret cruelty of a husband. I
ut once began 'oy expressing my warmest thanks
for the service she had so recently rendered me in
St. James's Park, in baffling the endeavours of
her husband to flee away with the precious docu-
ment : but she hastened to interrupt me by ex-
claiming, " I am so glad to see you now, dear
Ellen ! I thought you would feel interested in
the circumstances of my position as a wife; and
although that position is still a novel one, and but
a few days old, yet its experiences are sufficient to
show me what I have to expect on the part of my
husband."

" I am indeed interested on the subject, my
dear Zarah," I responded. "1 do not ask if you
repent the step which you have taken — for I see
by your looks "

" Repent it, Ellen ? Never !" ejaculated Zarah.
" Is not my ambition gratified ? is not my vanity
flattered ? am I not cradled in luxuries and sur-
rounded by all that wealth can purchase? On
two or three occasions — even during the short time
that I have as jet been a wife — I have expe-
rienced haughty and scornful treatment from some
of St. Clair's fashionable friends : but I can afford
to laugh at and despise such weak and impotent
displays. On the other hand there are many of
his friends who have flocked around us, anxious to
pay their court to him by overwhelming me with
attentions : and even yesterday two Cabinet Minis-
ters treated me with as much distinction as if I
had been the daughter of a Duchess, Ah, by
the bye, Ellen ! what think you ? That wretched,
wretched creature Lady Lilla Essendine, whom
with a breath I could destroy "

" Frankly, Zarah," I interrupted her, " I saw
it all ; for I happened to bo in the Park at the
time."

"And her conduct," continued Zurah, " produced
no more effect upon me than the breeze which was
passing at the time. Amongst the party with
which she rode, was a certain Colonel Bellew — a
man of desperate fortunes, and who some while ago
was indebted to E'hvin St. Clair, if not actually
for the means of subsistence, at least for the set-
tlement of those pressing claims which menaced
him with a gaol. There was at that period no
dirty work which Bellew was not prepared to per-
form "

" I know it," I inwardly thought i but I did not
interrupt Zarah.

" In short," she continued, " he would have done
anything for gold : ho was the veriest creature that
ever fawned at a master's hand ! But because St,
Clair refused a short time back to minister any
farther to his extravagances, the wretch has now
turned round upon him. Never can I forget the
look of lofty scorn which Edwin flung upon that
man and Lady Lilla Essendine ! Ob, at the
moment I felt proud of him as a husband 1 Yes
— I even felt as if I loved him as well as- in former
times I loved him !"

" And now, Zarah," I said, " in reference to
those matters which more immediately concern
yourself ?"

"Before the world, and in the presence of his
domestics," continued Zarah, " St. Clair treats me
as if the tale which you doubtless read in the
newspapers, were strictly true ; and mine is a de-
meanour calculated to sustain the impression which
that ingenious fiction produced. But when we are
alone together, St. Clair's look alters, as if he him-
self had suddenly disappeared and another being
had taken his place. There is all the wickedness
of Lucifer in his countenance!— the wickedness of
that Satan who is so grandly described by Milton in
all the beauty of the fallen angel ! The haughtiest
scorn blends fearfully with the most withering
contempt: — at least such would be the blight-
ing-effect of that look upon any other: but I am
unmoved by it. Generally I affect to perceive it
not: but if by any circumstance I am compelled
to glance towards him, it is with an air of supreme
defiance. He does not condescend to give vent to
his feelings in reproaches or upbraidings : he
doubtless thinks the expression of such bitterness
would display a rancour beneath the dignity of a
sovereign scorn and a haughty contempt. Besides,
words would be overheard ; and it is his object to
deceive the world in respect to the true motives of
the alliance which he has formed. He may con-
tinue, my dear Ellen, to wear his coldly scornful
demeanour as long as he likes : he will not thereby
break my heart. It must cost him a greater effort
to maintain this offensive part, than it costs me to
act as it were on the defensive with my own cali)i
yet proud defiant looks. We shall see who will be
wearied first !"

" You tell me, Zarah," I said, endeavouring as
well as I could to conceal the pain which was oc-
casioned me by this fearful description of their
married life, — " you tell mo that many of St.
Clair's friends have rallied around hiui and are be-
coming 2/oui' friends. Do you not think that
when the conviction shall dawn in upon him that

296

ELLEN PBECT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS.

it is more for your sake than for his own he is
thus courted, his heart will soften towards you ?
But I will even go farther. What if through this
very marriage of his, his ambition were flattered
by overtures from Cabinet Ministers themselves ?
—would not a sense of gratitude be experienced
towards her who would have proved the source,
though indirectly perhaps, of this elevation? I
will tell you, Zarah — but of course in confidence —
precisely on what grounds I put these questions."

I then explained the discourse that I had over-
heard on the previous day between the two Cabi-
net Ministers in Hyde Park ; and Zarah's large
black eyes grew more luminous than was even na-
turally their wont : but I was mistaken in respect
to the real cause. It was not that she entertained
the hope that her husband's heart would soften
towards her : it was because she knew that in pro-
portion as his own position became more elevated,
her's by the reflection of that light which a hus-
band sheds upon his wife would become all the
more brilliant.

" His is a disposition so peculiar — a character
so strange," she said, " that it is not to be judged
by ordinary rules. Those circumstances which
might soften another heart and inspire another
soul with gratitude, may pass over him like the
breeze which ruflles not the surface of the ocean.
But let it be so ! In proportion as he rises in
the social sphere, must I necessarily rise with him.
If the fortune of a political career should carry
him onward to the attainment of a title, I must
become the partner of Lis rank. All this, dear
Ellen, is happiness enough for me."

" And now tell me, Zarah," I asked,— " tell
me, my good friend — was he very bitter against
you for the generous succour you lent me the
other night in St. James's Park — when you ap-
peared so suddenly — so opportunely "

" He has not once alluded to the incident,-" re-
sponded Zarah. " It seems as if he thought that
the conflicts which we may have, are not to be
the subjects of discourse,"

"And you overheard," I said, "somewhat of
all that was passing between me and— and— my —
my "

" Enough, dear Ellen !" interrupted Zarah :
"whatsoever may have tJie?* come to my know-
ledge is a secret which I shall ever keep. As for
my husband, it is at present a stern but tacit
struggle between usj and we shall see who will
conquer, he or I."

I could scarcely repress a sigh : and anxious to
leave so painful a topic— for there was something
fearfully unnatural in the union of two such
beings, — I proceeded to inform Zarah how I had
seen Luigi in Hyde Park on the preceding day.

" That man is vindictive — bitterly vindictive,"
she said: "but I will take care that he does not
work me a mischief."

After some little more conTersation, Zarah and
I separated ; and as I returned homeward, I could
not help thinking that she was a being almost as
fearful as St. Clair himself, to have espouseJ such
a man. She felt how deeply criminal he was : she
was acquainted with his misdeeds, — crimes and
deeds of which I knew that she herself was utterly
incapable : and yet she had married him ! To
gratily her ambition she had trampled upon every
other consideration— she had conquered all repug-

nance—she had become the heroine of a drama
of real life, infinitely more startling, more terrible,
more ominous than any that was ever created from
the imagination.

Three or four days passed, and I heard nothing
more of my father : I therefore concluded that he
had either failed in falling in with Lord Frederick
Bavenscliffe, or that he was preparing some plan
which was not as yet sufficiently matured to be
put into operation. In the meanwhile great pre-
parations were being made at the theatre for the
production of Shakspere's historical drama of
" Antony and Cleopatra." Some scenes were to
be abbreviated — some speeches to undergo the
process of expurgation ; and the lessee resolved
that the play should be produced with all the
grandest effects that scenery and costume could
combine to create. As a matter of course, I was
to enact the part of Cleopatra ; and Mr. Hichards
gave me carte blanche in respect to the ordering
of my own costume, which he was desirous should
be as suitably rich as possible. On the day when
it was brought home to Hunter Street, Juliet,
Beda, and myself shut ourselves in my chamber,
that I might try on this gorgeous apparel — and
likewise that I might practise those postures and
attitudes which were consistent with the queenly
character I was to assume. Half-reclining upon
the sofa — my head supported by the cushions
piled up for the purpose — with a diadem on my
brow and a sceptre in my hand, I thus took the
initiative in my final studies for the part. Juliet
and Beda were in raptures ; and I could not
silence them in the compliments which they paid
me. Indeed, Juliet's glowing language — inspired
by the sincerest friendship and fondest love, which
rendered her as proud of me as if I were really
a sister— brought vividly to my recollection the
compliments she had bestowed on that occa<
sion when, upwards of eighteen months back, I
had first imparted to her my desire to enter upon
the stage. And she too remembered the same
circumstance : for when I reiterated my request
that she would desist from passing such extrava*
gant eulogies upon me, she exclaimed, " Oh ! this
is not the first time, my dearest friend, that you
have endeavoured thus to sUence me. Beda, is
not your mistress truly beautiful ?"

" I love her for her beauty as well as for her
goodness," was the girl's response. " One may
love even an ugly object : but how much more
exquisite is that love when the object is beautiful !
Thus one may prize the utility of some plant :
but it is the charming flower which ravishes the
gaze."

" Admirably spoken, Beda !" exclaimed Juliet.
" Now really, my dear Ellen, you must not be
angry with me if I tell you that this costume
shows ofi' your beauty with an effect which no
other apparel has ever yet produced. That head-
dress of silver brocade throws out the raven glossi-
ness of your hair in marvellous contrast. The
diadem shines upon your brow : but that magnifi-
cent hair of your'e shines with a natural glory all
its own !"

" Juliet, you must not continue thus !" I
exclaimed : then laughing good-humouredly, I
added, " I will expel you both from my chamber
and study these postures by myself."

" Then who would be enabled to tell you of

ELLEIf PEECY ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS.

M97

ELLEN AS "CLEOPATRA."

their effect, Ellen ?"' asked Juliet, laughing also :
and for a long time I had not seen her so really
gay and happy. " Kemember, my dear friend,"
she continued, " you are to perform the part of
the voluptuous Egyptian Queen. You must re-
cline upon your throne as if it were a bod of roses
rather than the sovereign seat around which are
gathered the cares of State and Government.
Pity were it, dear Ellen, if in a spirit of too much
prudery you were to bring this exquisite light
robe too high upon your snowy neck "
" Enough, Juliet !" I exclaimed, starting up
No. 38.— Ellb!? Percy.

from the sofa. " I see that instead of an assistant
or a tutoress, I have in you nothing but a too par
tial friend and flatterer."

On the following evening the theatre was
crovfded to excess : hundreds and hundreds failed
to obtain admission ; and if it had been twice the
size it would still have been crammed in every
part. From pit to gallery it was a perfect pave-
ment and wall of human faces. The piece had
been oast with all the strength of Mr. JElichards'
excellent company : no expense had been spared
in the costumes or the scenery : all the decora-

298

BLIEX PESCY; OK, THB MEMOIB8 OF AW ACTKB8S.

tions and embellishments had been presi'led over
with the spirit of taste, judgment, and liberality.
Every one behind the curtain was in high spirits ;
for a triumphant success was anticipated.

I will here admit that I had never at the outset
entered upon the study of a character with less
satisfaction than in respect to this. I could not
as it were make it my own. I could not identify
myself with it. I knew that in order to render
the character effective, I must in some parts throw
around it a halo of sensuousness which revolted
against my feelings. But I was bound by my
agreement with ilr. Eichards to take the part ;
and moreover I had assented in the first instance
before I had looked very deeply into it. Having
therefore no alternative but to appear as the
voluptuous Egyptian Queen, I studied and strove
for my reputation's sake to achieve a triumph
which might not be unworthy of my previous
successes; and I confided not to a soul the dis-
taste with which I thus prepared for the perform-
ance.

It was arranged in one part of the piece that I
should appear half-reclining upon a throne, the
immense voluptuous cushions of which rested
against a back supported by massive efligies in the
veritable Egyptian style. It was for this parti-
cular part that I had studied when Juliet so over-
whelmed me with her compliments and her flat-
teries. And now came the moment when I was to
appear in that position. Arrayed in light but
elegant apparel — with the diadem upon my head
•^with my hair flowing in heavy tresses — decked
with all the splendid jewels which I possessed —
and holding a sceptre tipped with a star, I as-
sumed a half-languid look as I thus reclined
against the immense cushions. In contravention
of the gaiiy given and gool-humoured advice of
Juliet, I drew up the light floating robe as high as
possible upon my neck : but at the very instant
when the rising of the curtain was about to reveal
to me the entire audience, a current of air dis-
arranged the robe somewhat, sufficient to display
more of my bosom than I deemed consistent with
modesty. In a moment I re-arranged the offend-
ing drapery ; and at that very instant I caught
sight of a tall, elderly, distinguished-looking man
who was in the nearest stage-bos, and who had his
opera-glass directed towards me. The curtain was
already sufficiently high for him to notice the little
incident to which I have alluded ; and as he re-
moved the glass, the look which he continued to
rivet upon me brought the blushes to my cheeks.

However, this circumstance was soon forgotten
amidst the thrilling and triumphant feelings pro-
duced by the thunders of applause which greeted
me from the crowded audience ; and I resolved in
my own mind that I would achieve success in this
as in all previous instances. And I did ! When
the drama was concluded, I was loudly called for ;
and being led upon the stage, I experienced such a
reception as defies all description. Bouquets were
showered upon me ; and several of them, as I sub-
sequently discovered, contained presents of jewels:
for I have noticed in a previous chapter that this
was one method by which the wealthier orders
occasionally testified their approbation of a
favourite actress.

On retiring to my dressing-room, I experienced
the warmest congratulations on my success from

Juliet, her mother, Melissa Harrison, and three or
four other ladies of the company who came thither
for the purpose. But when all was over — when I
had returned to Hunter Street — and when I was
alone in my own chamber, my spirits experienced
a rapid reaction : a sadness came over me — I felt
for the first time as if I were not altogether satis-
fied with myself. I thought painfully of the little
incident which I have described in respect to the
temporary fluttering-away of the drapery from
my bosom, and of the devouring looks which that
elderly gentleman bad riveted upon me. There
seemed to be something immodest and repulsive
to the chaste ideas in the mere fact of having ex-
posed myself to such an occurrence, — something
meretricious, innocent though I really were, in the
event as if it looked like an allurement : so that I
almost felt as if I were rightly served by the
manner in which the gentleman to whom I am
alluding had regarded me. And finally, I could
not help thinking that if Henry Wakefield had
been present, he would rather have seen me ap-
pear in any other character than that which I had
just been enacting.

There was no doubt a great deal of prudish
fastidiousness in these reflections of mine : for
there was no more reason why my real character
should become identified or infected with the
voluptuousness of Cleopatra's, than that I should
be looked upon as a murderess because I was ac-
customed to perform the part of Lady Macbeth.
But still I could not shake off those disagreeable
impressions ; and under their influence I sank
into sleep.

CHAPTER LII.

THE i£AEQUI8 OF TT-VEDAIE.

Whes I awoke in the morning, it was still par-
; tially under the same influence, though to a much
' less degree than on the preceding night. I de-
scended to the breakfast-table, where I found the
; Normans already assembled, and deep in the
perusal of the critiques given by the daily papers
on the representation of "Antony and Cleopatra."
It appeared that I was spoken of in the most rap-
turous terms: indeed the leading journals devoted
a lengthy disquisition to a complete analysis of
my performance of the part of the Egyptian
I Queen. They one and all agreed that "it was evi-
dent the innate modesty of the young lady herself
struggled at times against a due appreciation of
i what Cleopatra's character really was ; and though
this irresistible domination of a pure and chaste
; mind over the voluptuousness which belonged to
I the character, somewhat impaired the truthfulness
'■ of the impersonation, yet nevertheless the general
i effect was to throw the charm of an exquisite de-
I licacy over all." In a word, nothing could be
I more flattering to my reputation as an actress or
j to my feelings as a maiden than the style in which
j these critiques were couched. Again did I receive
the warm congratulations of my friends the Nor-
mans ; and my spirits rose almost completely over
the depressing influence that had lingered behind
the reflections of the preceding night.

It was about noon — and I was in my own

ELLEN PERCY ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS.

M99

chamber, when a letter which had just arrived by
the post, was brought in to me by Beda. The
address was in a masculine hand that was un-
known to me ; and the missive was evidently from
no private friend, inasmuch as it was directed to
Miss Trafford instead of to Miss Percy. Beda
retired : I opened the letter— and a paper fell out
upon the floor. I picked it up ; and to my asto-
nishment I discovered that it was a cheque for five
thousand guineas, — the signature being simply,
" Ttnedale." It was drawn upon Messrs. Coutts
the bankers, and was left payable to hearer, no
name having been inserted in the body of the
draft. Instantaneously suspecting, even if not
completely understanding, what this meant, I felt
the hot blood of indignation glowing upon my
checks ; and I was on the point of tearing up
both cheque and letter, into a thousand pieces,
when the thought struck me that at least it would
be prudent to assure myself that it was as I fan-
cied J for either my conjecture might in some way
or another prove erroneous— or the packet itself
might have been addressed to me through some
mistake. I accordingly curbed my angry impa-
tience as well as I was able ; and I commenced
the perusal of the letter which had contained the
cheque, and the contents of which I found to run
as follow : —

" Tyriedale Lodge, Kensington,
" September 18th, 1841.
" After an absence of about two years upon the
Continent, I returned a few days ago to the
British metropolis. The fame of Miss Trafford
had reached me in Italy, where I have been so-
journing ; and whenever in English newspapers I
read an account of her admirable impersonations
of dramatic heroines, I always longed for the mo-
ment when I should be enabled to witness the
display of that transcending genius. Last even-
ing my curiosity was gratified. I waa prepared to
find that Miss Trafford possessed talents of the
highest order : but their brilliancy far outshone
even all my highly raised expectations. In the
same manner likewise, was I prepared to find that
Miss Trafford was beautiful : but no sooner did
my looks fall upon her than I discovered that she
was infinitely more lovely than even in the wildest,
imagining I could have anticipated. But to drop
the third person, and address you. Miss Trafford,
in a more direct manner, I am at this moment at
a loss for language to convey the feelings with
which you have inspired me. Being married,
though for some years separated from the Mar-
chioness, I am unable to take that step which
those feelings would otherwise prompt — namely,
by beseeching you to grant me your hand and
suffer me to conduct you to the altai*. But if yftu
will trust yourself to my honour — if you will con-
sent to render me happy— your own happiness
shall henceforth become my chief, my only study.
I am wealthy ; and if riches can ever be ren-
dered a proof of devoted love, they shall be show-
ered upon your head. The nature of my property
is such that I can dispose of the greater portion
of it according to my own will and pleasure. All
that I can thus dispose of shall be bequeathed unto
yourself. From everything that I have heard of
your character, I know you to be virtuous ; and I
fear that on a first perusal of this letter the flush
of anger will rise to your cheeks. But I implore

and beseech that you will give the subject a calm
consideration. It is true that I havo not the at-
tractions of youth nor of good looks to strengthen
my plea : but I possess a warm heart — and all
those worldly advantages of which I can dispose,
shall, as I have already said, be entirely your's.
That you may know who it ia that is thus address-
ing you, I need but allude to a little incident of
last evening, which was discerned by some one in
a stage-box having an opera-glass at the time ;
and I saw that your looks were thrown towards
we— for I was that person.

" Referring to all the good report I have heard
of your character, I naturally conceive that if my
present appeal should succeed in making any im-
pression upon you, you would desire that our con-
nexion should be kept as secret as possible. If
you decide upon replying favourably to this, I
leave every detail and arrangement to yourself: I
am anxious to prove your slave in all things.
Whatsoever course you may point out shall be
strictly and faithfully followed by me ; and what-
ever stipulations you may have to lay down shall
be most sacredly regarded. Situated as I am, I
can say no more than this : I cannot speak more
fairly. But I may add that if death should re-
move my present wife before its stern hand is laid
upon me, joyously and cheerfully should I lead
you to the altar to become the Marchioness of
Tynedale.

" As a trivial earnest of my good faith, and as
some small proof of the sincerity with which I am
inspired in thus addressing you, I enclose a cheque
which will be immediately honoured at my
banker's without a single question being asked,
no matter who may be the bearer of it. And now
permit me to subscribe myself

"Your most devoted admirer,

" TXNEDALE."

Such were the contents of the letter which the
Marquis of Tynedale had dared to write to me —
couching the most insulting and audacious over-
tures in the insidious delicacy of a language art-
fully constructed and skillfully glossed over. Ah !
I was now invited to become the mistress of the
Marquis of Tynedale, — I who might have become
the wife of the Marquis of Dalrymple, with the
title of Duchess in the perspective I And that
cheque for five thousand guineas which he had
enclosed, — oh ! again and again did the flush of
indignation glow and burn upon my cheeks; and
the bosom of which the veteran libertine had acci-
dentally caught a glimpse on the preceding even-
ing, was now swelling as if it would burst with
the sense of my outraged feelings. I was thinking
what course I should pursue — whether I should
consign letter and cheque to the flames and
take no farther notice of the communication — or
whether I should return them both in a blank
envelope—or thirdly, whether I should pen an in-
dignant billet to accompany them, — when the
door of my chamber suddenly opened, and Melissa
Harrison made her appearance. She had the pri-
vilege of thus seeking me at her pleasure in my
own private apartment ; for I was always on terms
of the most friendly intimacy with her, and she
always testified the warmest gratitude for the ser-
vices which I had rendered her during the earliest
part of our acquaintance.

300

EILEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP Alf ACTRESS.

" My dear Ellen," she exclaimed, as she came
hastilj towards me, " I could not resist the im-
pulse of calling this morning to repeat the con-
gratulations which I offered you last night on the
occasion of your new triumph — especially after
those splendid critiques which I have just been

reading. But, Ah! my dear friend ! you have

a strange louk — you are agitated and excited !
Ileaveu grant that no evil intelligence has reached
you!"

I held in my hand the letter and the cheque
which I had no time to conceal, sj suddenly did
Melissa burst iu upon me : but I was now on the
point of thrusting that letter and that cheque be-
neath the cushion of the sofa on which I was
seated, and of assuring her that nothing bad tran-
spired to ruffle nor disturb mo, — when I was
suddenly struck by the thought that she would
conceive there was something suspicious in the
incident.

" Your cheeks were burning a few moments
back, Ellen," she said, surveying me attentively ;
" and now they are exceedingly pale. I do hope,
my dear friend, that nothing has occurred to
annoy you ?" — and she glanced at the letter and
the cheque which I held in my hand.

"Judge for yourself, Melissa," I said, now at
once making up my mind how to act. " Sit down
and read this letter. Its contents will explain the
meaning of the cheque — you will not be surprised
that my cheeks were burning with indignation —
and you shall give me your advice in respect to
the course which I ought to pursue."

Melissa sat down by my side upon the sofa : I
gave her the Marquis of Tynedale's letter; and
she read it deliberately and attentively. When
she had finished the perusal, she did not immedi-
ately make any comment : she reflected for nearly
a minute ; and at length she said, " To you, Ellen,
it is indeed a flagrant insult : but to almost any
one else it would appear in a very different light—
and in that different light would be taken."

" At least I thank you, Melissa," I observed,
" for the exception which you have made on my
behalf: but I confess that I expected something

stronger from your lips "

" My dear Ellen," she exclaimed, " I repeat that
to 1/ou it is an insult of the most unpardonable
character: it is a monstrous outrage— because all
the world knows that your life is as pure as your
genius is brilliant. Eut did I not speak truly
when I hinted that there is many and many a
young female who would succumb to so dazzling a
temptation? However, let us speak of yourself.
You will of course return the insolent nobleman
bis letter and his cheque in the most contemp-
tuous manner which you can possibly adopt ?"

" 1 thought of two or three different plans," I
replied : " but that is assuredly the best. You
mean, I suppose, that I should return the letter
and the cheque in a blank envelope ?"

" Such is my meaning," answered Melissa
"The Marquis of Tynedale will then know pre-
cisely the true character of her whom he has
audaciously endeavoured to tempt and beguile.
If you were to consign his missives to the flames
and take no notice of them, he would fancy they
bad miscarried, and he would persecute you with
fresh correspondence. If, on the other hand, you
were to write a letter expressive of your indigna-

tion, it would serve as an excuse for him to have
recourse to his own pen again, and under an apo-
logetical semblance renew his overtures in terms
still more insidious than these."

" I agree with you, my dear Melissa," I said,
well pleased by the good sense that characterized
her reasoning : "the preferable course is to return
the letter and the cheque in a blank envelope."

" And if it please you, Ellen," rejoined Miss
Harrison, " I will deliver the letter at Tynedale
li' dge : for it happens that I am going straight
hence to Kensington. My little girl," she added,
in a lower tone, and with a slight flush upon her
cheeks, " is now residing with a worthy couple in
that neighbourhood — and I am going to see her."

" You will do me a favour," I rejoined, " by
leaving the letter for me as you so kindly propose.
I shall be thereby not only assured of its safe
delivery — but it will reach the Marquis more
speedily than if it were transmitted through the
post ; and the sooner he becomes aware of my de-
cision, the more thoroughly must ho appreciate
the unhesitating scorn and indignation with which
his base overtures have been rejected."

I accordingly enclosed the Marquis of Tyne-
dale's letter and cheque in a blank envelope ; and
having sealed and addressed it, I consigned the
little packet to the care of Melissa. She then took
her departure ; and when I was once more alone,
I relapsed into that same train of reflection which
I had pursued on the preceding night after my re-
turn from the theatre.

" To-morrow," I said to myself, " is the day on
which Mr. Parks has promised to surrender me up
the fortune bequeathed me by my grandfather. I
shall then become entirely my own mistress — I
shall be independent of the stage ; and when the
time comes it will not be as a dowerless bride that
I shall accompany my cousin Harry to the altar.
But even if I choose to remain upon the stage, I
shall be enabled to dictate such terms to lessees as
will leave me a full discretionary power in re-
spect to all the characters in which I may choose
to appear. Even as the matter now stands, I will
not again appear as Cleopatra !"

Having thus made up my mind on this point, I
at once sat down and wrote a firm but perfectly
courteous letter to Mr. Eichards, announcing the
resolve not to take again the part which I had
performed on the preceding night. This letter I
sent off to the post ; and I felt as if my mind
wore relieved of a weight which had been oppress-
ing it.

It was now two o'clock in the afternoon ; and
I had just dressed to go out with the inten-
tion of calling upon Lady Cecilia Urban, whom I
had not seen for some little time, when I received
a note from my father. He therein informed me
that he should be in Euston Square at about three
o'clock, and that he would like to speak to me for
a few minutes, if I could conveniently contrive to
bo there. I accordingly proceeded to the place
named ; and as it was at no great distance from
Hunter Street, I went thither on foot. I looked
about, but did not see my father. I walked slowly
round the Square ; and presently I was passed by
an individual whose appearance struck me as being
somewhat singular, so that I could not help fling-
ing upon him a second glance. A. mass of light
brown cutling hair projected beyond the brims of

ELLKS PEKCY; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AS ACTKESS.

301

a bat of a peculiar shape : ho had large bushy
whiskers, and a moustac'.ie. lie was dressed in a
blue frock coat buttoned up to the chin, and mili-
tary grey trousers. Ue carried a cano ; and an
eye-glass, suspended round his neck by a black
ribbon outside his coat, was stuck in his right eye.
My immediate impression was that he must be a
foreigner.

He stared hard at me as I passed, so that the
second look which I flung upon him was instanta-
neously withdrawn ; and I was continuing my
way, when I heard footsteps behind mo— and this
singular-looking individual was at once by my
side.

" If yoM did not know me, Ellen," he said,
" the disguise must bo an effoctive one."

Good heaven ! it was my father's voice —and it
was ray father himself too! — for I now recognised
his features — or rather I should say as much of
them as all the false hair which he wore left re-
vealed. I must confess that I was at first as
much pained as astonished to behold him thus
ludicrously disguised ; for I was naturally struck
by the idea that as ho had his pardon in his
pocket there could not be any absolute need for
such a concealment of his personal identity.

" Be not angry, and be not astonished, my dear
girl," said my father, who at once comprehended
what was passing in my mind; "for if there be
no absolute necessity for this disguise, it is never-
theless dictated by several prudential reasons, as
you shall immediately learn."

We walked away into the retired and little fre-
quented streets which exist in the neighbourhood
of Easton Square: and I awaited with curiosity
the forthcoming explanations.

"In the first place," resumed my father, "I
must speak of that villain Parks "

" Is he deceiving us i" I exclaimed : " have you
reason to suspect——"

" Listen, Ellen," interrupted my father.
" Snowing that Parks is a man capable of any
iniquity, duplicity, and deceit, I thought after we
left him the other day, that it would be as well if
I were to institute some watch upon his move-
ments J for I reflected that perhaps sooner than
surrender up so large a sum, he might hastily
realize all his property and decamp to the Euro-
pean continent, to America, or to one of the far
distant colonies. Keeping in mind the importance
of the sum which is at stake, I was not likely to
hesitate at a trifle when once I had resolved to
maintain a watch upon his movements. Hence
therefore this disguise. I have followed Parks
on various occasions and to many places within
the metropolis ; but I have seen nothing to con-
firm my suspicion that he may after all attempt to
play us false. To-morrow, therefore, we shall
proceed to his residence, according to the appoint-
ment which he gave us the other day. But there
was another reason which induced mo to assume
this disguise. Thomas Parks is not the only in-
dividual whom I have watched : I have likewise
been keeping my eye upon Lord Frederick Baveus-
cliff"e."

" You have seen him, then, father ?" I said,
anxious to know whether there were any shadow
of a chance that he mighc be brought to the ne-
cessity of rendering an act of justice to Juliet.

" I have seen him frequently," responded my

sire : " but I thought that I would wait for a few
days ere I made myself known to him. My ob-
ject in watching him, Ellen, has been to form an
idea of his pursuits, so that I may judge whether
he be likely to yield to the influenc?s which I must
bring to bear upon him-in short, that I might
the better know how to shape my own course of
action. Por though I am resolved to leave no
stone unturned in order to compel him to do an
act of justice to your friend Juliet, yet must I
proceed delicately and cautiously. For remember
that though I have my pardon in my pocket, and
may defy him on that point— yet that I am not
equally independent on another poiat. For if
I were to threaten him with exposure in respect
to his villanous conduct towards year friend
Juliet, he might, alas! turn round and retaliate —
he might bid me beware how I brought down
the vengeance of the law upon himself, inasmuch
as I was an accomplice in his iniquity. There-
fore, my dear girl," continued my father, " I am
compelled to proceed with all possible caution.
He is leading a life of dissipation ; and it is sel-
dom that one who falls into such pursuits, fails to
lay himself open in some weak points which may
be taken advantage of for particular purposes.
For these reasons have I watched him, and may
continue to do so for yet a little while longer, era
I finally shape out the course which I may have
to adopt."

" I must leave everything," I answered, " to
your judgment : and heaven grant that your pro-
jects may succeed ! I know that all the love which
Juliet once experienced towards that young noble-
man, has turned into disgust, if not into hatred :
but for her own sake, as well as for that of her
parents, she would doubtless accept the position
of a wife, so as effectually to shield her dis.
honour."

" Reverting to the business which we have in
hand for the morrow," said my father — " I mean
our appointment with Mr. Parks— I have just
made up my mind to take a step which will con-
vince him that we are not to be trifled with. I
will this evening throw off my disguise and pay
him a visit, to remind him that the appointment
does stand for the morrow."

After a little more conversation, I and my father
separated ; and as it was then too late for me to
pay my previously intended visit to Lady Oacilia
Urban, I returned to Hunter Street.

On the following morning, immediately after
breakfast, I received a letter from my father. He
therein informed me that he had seen Mr. Parks
on the preceding evening, and that the appoint-
ment was postponed for a week. He went on to
say tliat Mr. Parks had alleged as an excuse for
this delay the dilliculty of raising so large a 8u:a
of money in so short a time— that he had pro-
duced documents and letters to prove that he was
in the course of obtaining the required amount,
and that he was acting a sincere part. My father
assured me in this letter that there was nothing
in the lawyer's conduct to excite his suspicion,
and that he believed everything would result suc-
cessfully, though he was resolved not to relal in
his look out upon Mr. Parks's movements and
proceedings. I confess, however, that I nosv had
my misgivings : but there was no help for it— the
business was in the hands of my father, who was

302

EIiLBir PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIBS OP AN ACTEES3.

conducting it with as much circumspection as pos-
sible— and all I could do was to abide the issue
with patience.

Mr. E.ichards was exceedingly vexed and an-
noyed at my refusal to reappear in the character
of Cleopatra : he first of all told me outright that
I was violating the terms of my compact, and
that he could force me to adhere to them if he
thought fit; but I speedily gave him to under-
stand that I was determined to consult my own
feelings of decency and propriety in preference
to any other consideration. He was somewhat
amazed to find me so resolute : he began to talk
more humbly, and even to apologize obsequiously :
but I had not the slightest wish to humiliate him —
and I therefore rejoined in such a way that we be-
came good friends again. " Antony and Cleopatra"
had been announced for repetition : but it was re-
called in consequence of the determination I had
taken ; and I appeared in some character that was
more congenial to my taste than that of the volup-
tuous Egyptian Queen.

On this evening of which I am speaking, I ob-
served the Marquis of Tynedale in the same box
which he had occupied on the former occasion :
but I affected not to notice his presence. Never
once while I was upon the stage that evening,
did I suffer him to perceive that I threw a glance
towards him : his very presence was to me an
insult and an outrage. Yet two or three times,
when he could not observe me, as I was behind the
scenes waiting to go on, I cast looks in the direc-
tion of the box in which he was seated ; and I
saw that he was watching with the most earnest
attention for the moment when I should make my
appearance.

" The Marquis," I took the opportunity to
whisper in Melissa's ear, " is present again to-
night."

" Yes — I perceive him yonder," she replied :
" but I do not think, my dear Ellen, he will ever
trouble you again. You doubtless remember his
handwriting and his seal P"

" Yes," I responded : " I have a perfect recol-
lection of them both ; and if he should dare make
the attempt to communicate with me again "

" You will put his letter into the fire P" sug-
gested Melissa : " you would not think of open-
ing it?— and you certainly would not condescend
to take the trouble of returning him a second
letter in a blank envelope ?"

" No — I assuredly would not," I answered : and
the next moment 1 had to go upon the stage.

Two or three days afterwards I received a note
from Lady Cecilia Urban. She reproached me
in gentle but kind terms for not having been
to see her very lately j and she begged me to fa-
vour her with a call. She and her aunt had
moved to a new residence, near Knightsbridge —
indeed close by the Eutland Gate; and she ex-
pressed her wish to have my opinion upon their
present mansion. I accordingly resolved to lose
no time in visiting the young lady who from cir-
cumstances had formed so strong an attachment
for me. It was at about one o'clock in the after-
noon that I proceeded to Knightsbridge: and I
was compelled to go in a cab, for an accident had
happened on the preceding day to Mr. Norman's
carriage. Having passed an agreeable hour with
Lady Cecilia— and having promised that 1 would

soon return to pay her a longer visit — I took my
leave. The weather was exceedingly fine, and I
resolved to walk through Hyde Park, as for the
last few days I had taken but little exercise, and
I had a slight pain in the head. I had proceeded
about half-way through the Park, when I observed
a tall, elderly, aristocratic-looking personage ap-
proaching me on foot ; and I at once recognised
the Marquis of. Tynedale. He had suddenly di-
verged from the path he was previously pursuing,
and it was evidently that he might accost me.
The blood rushed to my cheeks; and I could not
help exclaiming within myself, and with a strong
feeling of bitterness too, " Am I over and over
again to be exposed to the insults of libertines ?
— do they imagine that they have a sort of pre-
scriptive right to address their overtures to every
female who happens to be connected with the
stage ?"

Yet while I was thus giving secret and silent
vent to my feelings, I was pursuing my way as
steadily as if perfectly unconscious of the approach
of the nobleman — and likewise with an air as if
ignorant of his presence. I wondered within my-
self whether he would dare address me ; and I
rapidly revolved in my mind the manner in which
I should treat him if he displayed that audacity.
To rebuke or reproach him, I reflected, would only
be to encourage a conversation ; and therefore the
better mode of behaviour on my part would be to
treat him with silent contempt, and endeavour to
make him feel that mighty as a rich peer of Eng-
land he might be, yet that by his actions he was
degraded in my eyes to the level of the lowest and
meanest of human beings.

It was evidently with hesitation and diffidence
that he was drawing near, — his pace becoming
slower ; and yet as he was cutting me off", as it
were, by the diverging route he had taken from
his original path, I could only escape him alto-
gether by turning away in another direction. For
a moment I thought of doing so : but then the
next instant I reflected that it would be impolitic
and unwise to sufi'er him to fancy that he was of
sufficient importance for me to be so influenced by
his presence. All of a sudden he seemed to make
up his mind to address me : he threw off" his hesi-
tation ; and in a few instants be was by my side.
Then I stopped short, flung an indignant look
upon him, and continued my way.

" Ellen, why thus cruel ?" he said, still keeping
by my side. " Is it possible that "

I now again stopped short— bent upon him
another indignant look — and turned away in a
direction at right angles with that which I had
previously been pursuing. But again was he by
my side.

"Ellen — dearest Ellen !" he said, throwing into
his voice, which was naturally not inharmonious,
as much tenderness as possible, — " I implore of
you to tell me why you are thus cruel? Is it
possible that after "

"My lord," I exclaimed, for the third time
stopping short, and confronting him with an in-
dignation half fierce, half haughty, "I insist — I
command that you leave me ! You have learnt
my decision— and in terms too which I should
have thought would have been sufficiently signifi-
cant "

" I know, Ellen," be interrupted me with a

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACTESSS.

303

look of the most earnest eutreatj, — " I know that
it is dishonourable on my part — a flagrant viola-
tion of a solemn "

"Then leave me at once, my lord!" I ejacu-
lated. "Not another syllable!— and dare not to
follow me another step I"

" Ellen, I am half mad I" exclaimed the Mar-
quis of Tynedale. " I cannot live without you —
by heaven I cannot !"

" Jf ow dare you, my lord, address me in these
terms P" I demanded, my whole frame now qui-
vering with anger and offended modesty. " By
what right do you speak to me in these familiar
terms — calling me by tny Christian name——"

"Ah, by what right?" he said, with a look and
manner so strange that I could not help being
struck by both. "May I not ask why you repel
me thus haughtily— thus disdainfully ?"

" What, my lord !" I cried ; " would you ven-
ture to assert any right upon such a point ?"

"The right, Ellen, which circumstances have
given me," he responded : and he spoke in a voice
so mild in accents— so plaintively reproachful —
and with a look so deprecating, that I really
began to grow bewildered: for to judge by his
conduct and demeanour, it would actually seem as
if he felt himself to be in some sense an injured
man by the denial on my part of bia asserted right
to question me.

" I cannot understand you, my lord," I said,
with firmness and dignity : but then all in an in-
stant a thousand painful ideas swept through my
mind.

Could he possibly think that I was only playing
a part ? — did he conceive that I was an actress off
the stage as well as upon it ? — had he become im-
pressed with the belief that in a meretricious or
coquettish humour at the moment, I had pur-
posely suffered him to catch a glimpse of my
bosom the other night at the theatre ? — that I
was therefore laying myself open to be addressed
by him — and that I had returned his letter -and
his cheque merely because I estimated my charms
at a higher price and was determined to elicit
more substantial terms ere I surrendered ? In
this sense ran the questions which with the swift-
ness of a hurricane I asked myself j and at the
bare idea that I might possibly be so terribly mis-
understood— so fearfully misjudged — the burning
blushes rose to my cheeks.

" You do not understand me, Ellen ?" he said,
still with all the gentleness of remonstrating in-
quiry, of deprecation, and reproach, as if he felt
himself to be an injured man — or at least as if he
thought he was not being treated handsomely or i
becomingly. " Ah ! I am not astonished to hear |
you speak thus ! But yet I may be permitted to |
deplore — to grieve even — though I might have
sworn never again to entreat — never even to re-
cognise you — but to pass you by unnoticed " ,

" If these vows, my lord, you made within i
yourself," I interrupted him, " they were well ]
and wisely taken ! But wherefore do you not
adhere to them ?" |

" You know that I made those vows, Ellen,"
he replied : " but. Ah ! to keep them is another
thing ! I would have pledged myself to perform :
anything at the time — yes, anything in order to '
enjoy that happiness "

He stopped short; for he saw that I was gazing I

upon him with a bewilderment which at those last
words that he uttered suddenly turned into a
silent storm of indignation — a storm that was ex-
pressed in my looks and which seemed in readi-
ness to burst forth. I had been insensibly led on
to tarry in conversation with him down to this
crisis ; and now I was still more completely trans-
fixed to the spot by the strange, the incompre-
hensible language he bad just been holding to
me.

"I do not understand you, my lord," I said;
" and it would take but little to make me con-
ceive that you are even more mad than wicked.
I now insist upon your leaving me ! — I couimand
it! — and I declare to you," I added vehemently,
" that if you persist in following my footsteps, I
will invoke the protection of that police-officer or
of those gentlemen yonder !"

It would be impossible to describe the look of
deep pathetic sadness which the Marquis of Tyne-
dale now bent upon me. All the dignity of his
own aristocracy seemed to dissolve into the
mournfulness of that look, with its deep yet mild
and gentle reproach fulness, as if it were the air of
a man who was doomed to suffer some immense
wrong, and yet was resigned to endure it patiently
and uncomplainingly for the sake of her who in- ■
flicted it. I was again struck by his whole appear-
ance : there was in my mind a vague idea of some
mystery which I could not understand — some
misconception either on his part or on mine: but
I would not bid him tarry that I might demand
explanations, when he began to turn away from
me with a last look of dismal yet gentle depre-
cation.

I hastened onward. What could it possibly all
mean P He had made allusions to things which I
could not understand : he bad said, for instance,
that I knew he bad made certain vows : — but how
could I have known it P He had spoken of " the
enjoyment of happiness :" and it was this phrase
which had turned my bewilderment into indigna-
tion. My thoughts were full of painful confusion,
wonder, and amaze. I now blamed myself for not
having demanded an explanation : but the whole
details of the interview had taken a course so dif-
ferent from what I had expected at the outset,
that I had been enabled to act only according to
the impulses of the moment, and not according to
the plan which in the first instance I had resolved
upon.

CHAPTER LI II.

MOKE MT3TEEIES.

Ten minutes had elapsed from the moment when
the Marquis of Tynedale had separated from mo
in so singular a manner; and still in a muze of
painful confusion, wonder, and perplexity, I was
drawing near ^towards Hyde Park Corner, — when
whom should I meet but Melissa Harrison ? Ah !
this was fortunate, I thought : for as she was ia
the secret of the iNlarquis of Tynedale's overtures
towards me, and of the manner in which I had
rejected thom, she might possibly be enabled to
fathom the present mystery with a degree of pene-
tration in which I found myself so utterly de-
ficient.

301

BLLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS.

" My dear Melissa," I said, speeding towards
her, " this meeting is most opportune !"

" Indeed, my dear Ellen !" she cried, pressing
my hands. " But what is the matter ? You look
agitated and excited P" — and she surveyed me
earnestly.

" I have just met the Marquis of Tynedale," I
said.

"Ah! But he did not dare address you ?" ex-
claimed Miss Harrison.

" He did, Melissa ! I treated hica with ovary
variety of scorn, contempt, hauteur, and indigna-
tion," I continued : " while he on the other hand
was full of a humility — a vague reproachfulness —
a deprecation as if of some injury that I was in-
flicting upon him in a word, Melissa, I am

totally bewildered — I am unhappy too — for it ap-
pears as if there were a mystery which ought to
be cleared up, and which I however know not how
to fathom !"

" Ob, he is evidently a foolish, silly old man,"
responded Melissa: "he is infatuated with your
beauty — and no wonder "

" You delivered that letter, Melissa ?" I ex-
claimed : " you delivered it that very day ?"

" Yes — within two hours — I might almost say
in an hour after I quitted you for the purpose,"
replied Miss Harrison. "Oh, you cannot sup-
pose "

" For heaven's sake, my dear friend," I said,
" do not for an instant think that I suspected you
of not delivering that letter, or even of delaying
its delivery. But when one is excited, and trou-
bled, and perplexed as I am at this moment, one
is apt to put hasty and thoughtless questions."

" No doubt, my dear frien j," answered Melissa ;
" and I was not for an instant annoyed at your
putting that question to me. But do not excite
yourself— be calm — and tell me everything that
passed. My head is cooler than your's at this
moment ; and I may possibly be enabled to sug-
gest explanations."

"That is just the idea which struck me the
instant I saw you," I exclaimed. " Listen — and
I will endeavour to repeat word for word all that
took place between his lordship and myself."

I gave the narrative to Melissa just as I ere
now described it to the reader— not even omitting
the hasty questions which I had asked myself, and
the bare idea of which had at the time brought
up the burning blushes to my cheeks. For I
should observe that Melissa was already ac-
quainted with the little incident in respect to the
drapery fluttering away from my bosom when I
was performing the part of Cleopatra : for that
incident was alluded to in the Marquis of Tyne-
dale's letter — and I had explained it to her before
elie took her leave of me on that occasion when
she set off to return the letter itself and the
cheque in the blank envelope to his lordship.
Miss Harrison now listened with deep attention
to the recital of all that had passed between the
elderly noblemaa and myself; and whea I had
concluded, I was still more pained, amazed, and
perplexed at those incidents as I had just reviewed
them, than I was when under the first impressions
they left on my mind.

" I fear, my dear Ellen," said Melissa, " that it
was as you apprehend. The Marquis fancied that
you had given him some little encouragement at

the theatre, and that having led him on to an
overture, he had a right to consider himself in-
jured by the disdainful manner in which you
rejected it. But whatever his opinion might thus
have been, he must now be assuredly disabused of
it after your conduct towards him within the pre-
sent hour. Do not trouble yourself any more upon
the point. As for tlie other language of which
hia lordship made use, and which has struck you
as being so strange and perplexing, it has really
no significancy that need pain you. Eemember
that when one is in an agitated state of mind, one
says things which seem iutelligible enough to one-
self, but which are an incomprehensible jargon to
the individual to whom they are addressed."

" It must be as you say, Melissa :" — and yet I
inwardly felt that her mode of accounting for the
mystery, was not altogether so complete as to
satisfy my mind : but I feared lest I might only ap-
pear foolish by dwelling upon the topic — and be-
sides, I had no doubt as to her own well-meaning
purpose.

" I must now leave you, Ellen," she said : " for
I am going to see my little girl— and I have not
too much time to spare. I hope that when next
we meet, I shall find you perfectly convinced of
the accuracy of the explanations which I have de-
duced from my own common sense reading of the
facts."

Melissa and I then separated ; but I had pro-
ceeded to no great distance before I caught sight
of my father a little way off. He made me a sign
to retire into a more secluded portion of the Park,
because there was, as is usual, a greater number
of persons in the neighbourhood of the gate at the
corner than elsewhere. I obeyed the sign ; and
in a few minutes I was joined by my father, — who,
I should observe, was disguised in precisely the
same style as when I had met him a few days back
in Euston Square.

I at once asked him if he had anything to com«
municate in reference to Mr. Parks ? — and he re-
plied, "Nothing of importance. I could not write
to you at very great length the other day: but I
gave you sufficient details to enable you to under-
stand the actual position of affairs."

" And you still think," I said, " that Mr. Parks
means to fulQl his pledge, and that he is not de-
ceiving us ?"

" I hope that he is not deceiving us," responded
my father ; " and I have no ground for supposing
that he is. He gave me proofs that he is raising
the money which he has to pay over to you : he
convinced me that he has ample means for that
purpose ; and he exhibited two or three letters
which satisfactorily accounted for the brief delay
which ho demanded. And that delay I felt bound
to accord him. It is true— and necessarily so —
that we are to some extent at his mercy ; because
when he shall have raised that money, whether ho
will pay it over to you or whether he will decamp
with it, is after all the main point. Of what his
conduct will be, I can only judge by his position.
From the searching inquiries I have made, I be-
lieve that he is very well off; and though as a
matter of course the payment of so large a sum
as that which we demand of him will make a
serious difference in his fortune, y^t I do not think
it will be of suflioient consideration to induce him
to abscond altogether and thus anniliilate all hia

ELLEX PEECY; OE, THE MEHOIES OF AX ACTEESS,

305

otheiTprospects at one single blow. In anj case,
Ellen, I am keeping a tolerably sharp look-out
upon him— that is to say, I watch his proceedings
Eoino two or threo times during each day : and
more I cannot do."

"And what," I asked, "in reference to Lord
Frederick Savenscliffe ?"

" By tlio bye," ejaculated my father, without
immediately replying to the question, " who is
that young person that I saw you with a few
minutes back, and whose presence kept me for a
little while at a distance ere I accosted you P"

" Oh, that is Miss Harrison," I answered,—" a
favourite danseuse in the ballet."

" I fear, Ellen," rejoined my father, " that she
is not altogether an eligible companion for you. I
do not think hef conduct is so correct as it might
be "

" What reason," I asked, " have you for this
No. S9. — ELLEif Peect.

supposition ?" — and methought that Melissa's
antecedents might perhaps by some means or
another have come to my father's ears.

"I am very much mistaken," he replied, "if
this Miss Harrison be not exceedingly intimate
with Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe."

" Ob, no ! — not improperly so, I am convinced '."
was the exclamation that burst from my lips.
" It is true that they are acquainted — Melissa
Harrison met him on three or four occasions at
supper-parties at Mr. German's, at the time when
the Normans used to see a great deal of company,
before Juliet was so grossly deceived by Lord
Frederick. But as to there being any particular
intimacy between Lord Frederick and Melissa, I
really do not think such can be the case. Indeed,
it was not long ago that Lord Frederick and a
gentleman who was with him, conducted them*
selves so grossly in the Qreen Boom of the theatre.

306

ELLEN PEECTj OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESa.

Uiat Melissa Harrison spoko iu the strongest terms
upon the subject."

" Well, then," answered my father, " all I can
tell you is that Miss Harrison and Lord Frederick
are now on excellent terms together — though
heaven forbid that I should go so far as to assert
anything of a more prejudicial kind to Miss Har-
rison's character. But within the last few days I
have seen them more than once together : — and
on the first occasion— I recollect now perfectly
well— they went off to dine at the Star and Garter
at Richmond."

" Is this possible, my dear father ?" I exclaimed.
" Surely you must be mistaken ?"

" So far from being mistaken, I am positive of
it," ho replied, — " and all the more so since you
have mentioned the name of Melissa. I recog-
nised the girl immediately I saw her in your
company just now: but I did not know until you
told me, what her surname is nor to what pro-
fession she belongs."

" It is extraordinary !" I murmured, with a
painful sensation at the heart^for I had fancied
that Melissa was deeply penitent for the past, that
she was devoted to her little girl, and that she was
now incapable even of an indiscretion, much more
of a deed of profligacy.

" Yes, it is as I tell you," continued my father.
" It was but three or four days ago that the inci-
dent to which I have so particularly alluded, took
place. I was proceeding along the Strand, follow-
ing Mr. Parks at a distance, and not even thinking
at the moment of Lord Frederick, — when I beheld
him alight from an elegant brougham at a bouse
of business. Then all in a moment my thoughts
were directed from the lawyer to settle upon the
young nobleman ; and true to my plan of pene-
trating as much as possible into his circumstances
and pursuits, I entered the house of business after
him. I saw that he did not recognise me : I got
near enough to him to ascertain precisely what his
purpose was in going thither ; and then I followed
him out,— after I had put some trivial question to
one of the clerks as an excuse for having entered
the place. He went straight up to the window of
the brougham, and said, ' Now, my dear Melissa,
since that business is done, we will be off to enjoy
ourselves at the Star and Garter.' — He leapt into
the brougham, wherein Miss Harrison had re-
mained seated while he was in the banking-house ;
and the equipage was whirled away."

" I am astonished, my dear father — and I am
pained likewise," I said, " to think that Melissa
could possibly be so deceptive. It is true that she
is ignorant of Lord Frederick's treachery towards
Juliet— unless be himself may now have commu-
nicated the secret to her "

" No— it is barely probable he would do so," re-
plied my father : " for Lord Frederick must regard
it as something too serious to be made the subject
of an idle boast or flourishing vaunt."

" I hope so," I rejoined. " But though Melissa
may indeed be ignorant that she is forming a
friendship with a young man who has so grossly
deceived a friend of her's — and though there may
not actually be anything criminal in her conduct —
yet her indiscretion is such as to render me careful
in future how I associate with her."

" Yes, you must indeed be thus careful, Ellen,"
replied my father; "for a young female who

would go to diae alone with a profligate young
nobleman— Ah! and speaking of his profli-
gacy," exclaimed my father, thus suddenly inter-
rupting himself, "I am convinced that he must be
pursuing a most extravagant course — a courso
that will inevitably pauperize him even before ho
succeeds to the family estates. It is my opinion
that he is borrowing large sums of money from
certain patrician friends — men who perhaps minis-
ter to his extravagances in order that they may
take all the greater advantage of them. The in-
ference which I draw in respect to this ruinous
career of his, is deduced from what I beheld at
Coutts's banking-house on the day of which I am
speaking."

" Coutts's P" I ejaculated, as a recollection flashed
to my mind.

"Yes — the celebrated bankers in the Strand,
you know," rejoined my father. " Lord Frederick
entered that banking-house to receive no less a
sum than five thousand guineas."

" Five thousand guineas !" I repeated, with a
sort of wild terror : for the mention of this precise
amount struck me as being most strange.

" Ah, you may well wonder at the profligacy of
his career !— but I can assure you that such was
the sum he received."

" Five thousand guineas," I repeated, a sicken-
log sensation coming over me. " Coutts — three
or four days back — Melissa — five thousand
guineas "

" Why, Ellen, what ails you P" cried my father.
"You have turned so deadly pale! Are you ill,
my dear child ?"

"Yes-^no. But tell me, father — tell me," I
hastily exclaimed, now in a terribly excited condi-
tion, " do you recollect — did you chance to notico
whose name was appended to the cheque ?"

"Yes — I purposely bent over as Lord Frederick
held it for a few moments in his hand before
there was a cashier disengaged to receive it ."

" But the name ? the name ?" I cried vehe-
mently. " Tell me, father "

" Tynedale," was the response. " But what
mean you, Ellen "

" Good God !" I murmured, with a feeling ot
the intensest agony : for all in a moment I com-
prehended what but a short time back was so
utterly unintelligible : it blazed upon me like
the broad, vivid, blinding glare of a tremendous
sheet of lightning !

" My dear child," said my father, sustaining me
by the arm— for he thought that I was about to
drop, — " what is the meaning of this excite-
ment ?"

"Ah!" I suddenly ejaculated, with a thrilling
sense of joy as new thoughts abruptly poured in
unto my mind : " he is in our power ! — and as for
myself, the mystery can be cleared up to the Mar-
quis!"

My father gazed upon me with a sort of con-
sternation, as if he feared that I was going mad.
And no wonder ! — for that rapid transition from
anguish and affright to the wildness of joy— my
changing looks — my altering accents — and the
words which I had just uttered, so incomprehen-
sible to my sire, — naturally filled him with the
worst apprehensions on behalf of my sanity,

" Father — dear father," I exclaimed, " Lord
Frederick Ravenscliffe is now so completely in our

ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEB83.

307

power that we may force bim to do aa act of | " Yes, this is the best policy," ejaculated my
justice to Juliet ! Oh ! you were right to watch I father ; " and it shall be carried out, Melissa
his proceedings and make yourself aware of his I must confess ! You can terrify her — you can tell
movements ! Yes — and you were right too, when , her that all is known — that you will reveal every-
you proclaimed that from the misdeeds and irregu- thing to the Marquis of Tynedale, who will prose-
larities of a person's life circumstances may often cute her — that her accomplice likewise will be
transpire revealing their weak points and showing arrested-

by what modes they are to be acted upon. So it
is in the present instance — and I repeat, Lord Fre*
derick Eavenscliffe is at our mercy !"

This torrent of words which flowed from my
lips, were sufficiently connected to convince my
father that I had not taken leave of my senses :
but still they explained nothing to bim ; and he
waited with impatient curiosity for whatsoever I
might next state.

" Listen," I said, "and I will tell you something
which I did not mention before because I was
fearful of giving you pain by showing how I am
exposed to dishonourable overtures. The Marquis
of Tynedale sent me a letter — and it contained a
cheque. You can comprehend what the nature of
that letter was, and why that cheque was sent,
when I tell you that I at once enclosed both in a
blank envelope in order to return them to the
author of the insult. Melissa came to me at the

time — I thought she was my friend and

heaven knows that she ought to have been after
all I did for her during the period of her illness
and her poverty ! I fancied I could trust her— I
gave her that letter — and it is but too evi-
dent "

"I understand!" exclaimed my father; "she
purloined the cheque— and young Ravenscliflfe be-
came her accomplice ?"

" Yes— it is evidently so," I answered. " And
just now I met the Marquis of Tynedale — his con-
duct was to me incomprehensible — and though

even at present I cannot altogether fathom it

Ah, that treacherous Melissa ! to listen to me as
she did just now when I encountered her!— to
speak to me as she did ! — to endeavour to persuade

me Good heavens, what duplicity is there in

the world ! what deceitfulness ! Whom can we
(rust P"

The tears gushed forth from my eyes as I pas-
sionately gave vent to these ejaculations; for I was
shocked and pained at the hideous aspect which
humanity wore as I at that moment contem-
plated it.

" Calm yourself, my dear girl," said my father,
—"for heaven's sake tranquillize yourself ! It is
but too evident that through the iniquity of this
deceitful Melissa Harrison your reputation must
have suffered— we know not as yet to what extent
—with the Marquis of Tynedale : but it can be
easily re-established. A character so pure as
your's, is like the polished mirror which for a brief
space may be dimmed by breathing upon it ; but
that dimness speedily passes away, leaving it in
the dazzling glory of its pristine brilliancy. But
what course shall we pursue P You, my dear
Ellen, are now the best judge of the mode of action
under existing circumstances."

I reflected for a few instants ; and then I
thoughtfully said, " If it were possible to wrest
from the guilty Melissa a full confession of her
wickedness, we should ascertain to what extent
Lord Frederick has become an accomplice
therein."

" Yes, I will do all this !" I exclaimed ; " for it
is a matter in which no punctilios must be re-
garded— in which there must be no weak scruples
and no false delicacy ! Melissa is certain to ride
home from Kensington to her lodgings : she will

not return on foot through the Park but I

shall find her at her abode presently. I think it
would be well, my dear father, if I were to see her
alone — at all events in the first instance "

"Yes — be it so!" interjected my father. "I
think you do not appear upon the stage this even-
ing— and therefore we shall have ample time for
following up whatsoever blow is to be struck — and
we will not suffer the grass to grow under our
feet."

I made arrangements with my father in order
to be enabled to see hiqi again at any time that
circumstances might require our meeting during
the rest of that day ; and we separated. I pro-
ceeded into Piccadilly, where I took my seat in a
cab and returned home to Hunter Street — for I
knew that it would be useless to repair to Melissa's
lodging for an hour or two, inasmuch as she could
not as yet have had time to visit her child at
Kensington and get back to her abode. Though
my feelings were for many reasons greatly excited,
yet I veiled them as much as possible in the pre-
sence of the !Normans ; and when five o'clock
came, I issued forth again, intimating to them
that I was going out to dinner. I reached the
house in which Melissa resided ; and my heart
palpitated violently when I learnt from the person
who answered my summons at the door, that Miss
Harrison was at home. I ascended to her apart-
ment,— which I at once entered without knock-
ing. Melissa was in the act of examining a quan-
tity of goods which it was evident had been but
recently sent in from the mercer's ; and I caught
a hasty glimpse of silks, satins, velvets, and other
materials for rich dresses. She was suddenly
seized with confusion on beholding me : she was
transfixed to the spot — she became excessively
pale; and then, recovering her presence of mind,
she rushed forward, exclaiming, " My dear Ellen,
what brings you hither at so unwonted an hour P"

"To tell you, Melissa," I at once answered,
with a cold grave look and with a firm voice,
" that everything is discovered !"

A half-subdued shriek escaped Melissa's lips :
she staggered back — and suddenly throwing her-
self upon a seat, she burst into tears, sobbing like-
wise bitterly. I said nothing for a few moments :
but as I kept my eyes fixed upon her, my heart
seemed to swell until it rose up into my very
throat — for again was I infinitely shocked and
cruelly hurt to have the conviction forced upon
me that I had given my friendship to one who
was so utterly unworthy of it.

" O Melissa !" I said at last ; " is it possible
that you could have thus deceived me— that you
could have been guilty of an act so infamous — a
deed so darkly criminal — stamping yourself with
eternal infamy— seriously compromising me "

" O Ellen !" she cried, " if it were not for the
recollection of all jour goodness towards me when
I 80 bitterly needed a friend, I should not be thus
bumbled and cast down! No, no! — to any one
else I should brave it out — I should assume the
air of a hardened wanton, as I have become !"

"Unhappy Melissa!" I exclaimed; "what ter-
rible words are these ?"

" Oh ! I am perhaps more wicked than you can
imagine!" she cried: "and yet But no mat-

ter !" she interrupted herself, with a strange wild
bitterness of look and tone : " I am now utterly
lost — and it is useless to deplore the degree of
degradation to which I have come down ! But still
I am not so bad as to be without remorse or
regret for the evil I have done to you, — you who
have ever proved yourself so kind and excellent a
friend towards me !"

" Melissa," I said, in an earnest tone, " if you
really esperience the slightest sentiment of grati-
tude on my behalf — if you are in the faintest de-
gree mindful of the friendship which has sub-
sisted between us — and if you have any anxiety
to make what atonement may lie in your power
for the ill you have done, — I conjure you to con-
fess your whole conduct in every detail ! I know
much — far too much for you to bo enabled to de-
ceive me in any particular. I will even tell you
that 1 know who your accomplice is: for on the
day when the cheque was presented at the bank,
there was a witness of the whole proceeding

"Ellen, I will tell you everything," answered
Melissa, — "yes, everything I — so that your own
reputation may be cleared up in a certain quarter :
for ever since the deed was done I have felt as if I
had committed a crime as black as murder itself !
Yes— I have been haunted by remorse — my soul
has been torn with regret — and I verily believe
that if you had not by some means obtained a
clue to the perfidy which has been committed, I
should have sped to Lord Tjnedale, thrown myself
at his feet, and confessed everything!"

"And now you will confess everything to me,"
I said J " and if it be possible to pardon you,
Melissa, you know that I am not merciless, — I
am not implacable "

"Ob, pardon is an impossibility!" she wildly
exclaimed. "But alas! I perceive, Ellen, that
you are unacquainted with the extent of my con-
duct in all its most hideous blackness ! You think
perhaps that having purloined the cheque, I
merely in your name gave the Marquis of Tyne-
dale some hopes ? But Oh ! far more deeply have I
sinned — far more deeply have I compromised you !"

" Good heavens, what can you have done ?" I
cried, shuddering with a wild vague apprehension.
"Speak, Melissa— speak ! Every moment of sus-
pense is full of poignant torture for me !"

"Ellen," she exclaimed, casting herself upon
her knees and extending her arms towards me,
"you will be an angel if you do not seek to kill
me outright when I confess the full infamy — the
abhorrent wickedness and hideous blackness of my
conduct !"

" Oh, this is dreadful!" I murmured, feeling
sick at the heart, while a dizziness seized upon my
brain — and I sank upon a seat. " Speak, Me-
lissa ! You have now thoroughly prepared me
for whatsoever revelation you may have to make !"
" Oh, Eilen, Ellen !" she wildly cried ; " can

you possibly be prepared to hear that when the
Marquis of Tynedale clasped me in his arms, it
was under circumstances planned with so devilish
an ingenuity that he believed he was possessing
you ?"

A shriek rose up to the very brim of my lips :
but it was suddenly held back by the sense of
consternation and dismay which instantaneously
succeeded the first thrilling effects produced by
this astounding, this terrific revelation. A faint-
ness came over me — all the sense of life seemed
to be departing out of my frame — when Melissa,
springing up from her kneeling posture, placed a
tumbler of water to my lips. I imbibed a portion
of the fluid, and was quickly restored. She stood
before me, pale, trembling, and quivering, the very
picture of conscious guilt stirred by remorse and
penitence ; and the tears began to trickle down her
cheeks.

" Now tell me everything, Melissa," I said, in
a low tremulous voice. " I will endeavour to hear
you patiently, and without excitement — or at least
without an external display of it. But beware
how you attempt to deceive me in any particular :
for my reputation must and sJuill be fully cleared
up with that nobleman — though at the same time
I will for mercy's sake endeavour to shield you
from the consequences of the tremendous crime
that you have committed."

" Oh ! this is more than I could possibly have
expected," said the weeping Melissa, — "infinitely
more than I could have dared ask ! You are an
angel of goodness, Ellen— and I am a wretch— yes,
the veriest wretch that crawls ! — though, thank
[ heaven, I am not yet so utterly lost or depraved
as to be without a sense of remorse for what I
I have done !"

" Where there is remorse, there is the germ of
penitence," I answered : " and where there is peni-
I tence, there ought to be mercy shown. Believe
I me, Melissa, I will not injure you if I can pos-
I sibly avoid it. But remember," I added in a
I firmer and severer tone, " there is no earthly con-
', sideration which I shall regard while clearing up
my own character !"

" And you are justified in thus speaking, Ellen,"
; answered Melissa. "Listen — and I will tell you
' everything. You are already acquainted with
I many of the incidents of my past lite : you know
' that under the dire pressure of circumstances
I became the victim of the seducer— and that
I seducer was Colonel Bellew. But you likewise
. know that so soon as I began to obtain some re-
putation as a dancer, I renounced the life of in-
famy : and heaven is my witness that it was at
the time a joyous and sincere renunciation on my
part ! If any one had then told me that I could
. ever have relapsed into a course of error, I should
have repelled the prophetic insinuation with indig-
nation, with scorn, and with loathing. And for
awhile my life was a correct one — yes, for a period
I rose as high above every temptation as you
yourself, Ellen, have ever risen ! Three weeks
have not as yet elapsed since I fell again ; and
I then, when once I had so fallen— when once the
' relapse had taken place— I felt as if seized with
a sudden callousness and indiflTerence — a despe-
rate recklessness, so to speak, as to what else I
might do or how much more deeply I might
plunge down into the vortex of wickedness."

Melissa had beea speaking with a rapid and
vehement utterance : she now pauaed — the tears
again started from her ejes— and having^ wiped
them away, she continued in the following man-
ner :—

"I must DOW confess that of all the joung
noblemen or gentlemen whom I have anjwhere
met, I have entertained a preference for Lord
Prcderick Havenscliffe. And I never betrayed it.
At ono time I believed that he was paying his court
to Juliet ; and the friendship which I experienced
for her rose superior to any feeling of jealousy.
Then everything appeared to be broken off in
tlmt quarter; and I no longer sought to put a
curb upon my feelings nor upon my imagination.
I thought oftener and oftener of the handsome
Frederick Bavenscliffe : I indulged in dreams and
visions of happiness — until I felt that I loved
Lim with the deepest infatuation. But all this
likewise did I conceal. Thus months and months
passed on : seldom did I see Lord Frederick
— and when we did happen to meet, it was
merely a reserved and distant notice that he be-
stowed upon me. Yet though my heart was
wounded, its passion was not cooled : the
Aame which burnt within lost none of its in-
tensity. Eut I am expanding this narrative of
mine to too great a length: I will therefore at
once approach the incidents which relate more
particularly to yourself. You remember, Ellen,
that scene in the Green Room which occurred be-
tween two and three weeks ago,— how Lord Frede-
rick and Colonel Bellow suddenly made their
appearance, heated with wine — and how hia lord-
ship insulted Juliet. I afterwards spoke strongly
of the matter, — not merely to conceal the real
state of my own feelings, but likewise because the
demon of jealousy had suddenly risen up in my
heart, and I felt that even from the evidence of
8uch an incident Lord Frederick thought infinitely
more of Juliet than he did of me. On the fol-
lowing day I was proceeding to the theatre at
about noon, to practise with the ballet-master,
when I suddenly encountered Lord Frederick.
He stopped me— he spoke with a friendly fami-
liarity that be had never before adopted towards
me — and he inquired what the Iformaus had said
in respect to the adventure of the preceding even-
ing ? I told him how indignant they were. Me-
thought that he smiled in a peculiar manner, but
I could not comprehend what was passing in his
mind. He retained me in conversation ; and I
confess that I was in no hurry to leave him — for
my heart was bounding with happiness. He
gradually began to contemplate me with attention :
admiration grew up in his looks : he paid me com-
pliments— he asked permission to call upon me —
and I assented. He came to my lodgings; and
then, Ellen— then I fell from the path of virtue
which for a period I had been pursuing."

Again Melissa paused : her cheeks were suffused
in blushes— the tears were trickling from her eyes.
At length she continued her narrative in the en-
suing strain : —

" I have already told you that when once I had
thus relapsed, I stifled all the whisperings of con-
science— I strove to harden myself — to surround my
heart, as it were, with the defence- works of cal-
lousness, recklessness, and indifference. I became
Tiord Frederick's mistress. Then one day I called

upon you. Ob, fatal day ! — it was the one oa
which you received the overture from the Marquis
of Tynedale. When you showed mo the letter and
its tempting enclosure, I could not help thinking
that if such an overture had been addressed to me,
I should gladly have accepted it. The sum ap-
peared enormous in my eyes. Satan whispered in
my ear; and without having positively deter-
mined to consummate the great wickedness that
was thus suggested to my mind, I offered to be-
come the bearer of the packet to Lord Tynedale.
But at the moment when you so readily and so
trustingly consigned it to my keeping, I could
hardly restrain myself from fulling at your feet
and confessing that I already felt myself un-
wortiiy of so much confidence. But my evil
genius prevailed — and I departed with the packet.
As I returned to my lodgings, the desire to be-
come suddenly enriched grew stronger and stronger
in my mind; and yet I hesitated to plunge all at
once into the vortex. Knowing nothing of the
nature of cheques, I dreaded lest if I were to self-
appropriate the one which that packet contained,
1 might, through some ignorance or indiscretion
in the mode of presenting it, betray my guilt and
draw down its most terrible consequences upon my
head. It is true that Lord Tynedale's letter itself
intimated that payment would be prompt and
without questioning at the bank : but stiil, as
guilty desires invariably suggest apprehensions—-
many of which may however be really groundless
— I trembled to incur what to me appeared a tre-
mendous risk. I aat down in this room with the
packet before me, pondering and hesitating —
wavering and uncertain. Lord Frederick entered
at the time. He had promised to bring me some
money ; and he at once began to complain bitterly
of disappointments which he had experienced — of
the increasing meanness of his father — and of the
embarrassments in which he found himself for the
want of a few hundreds of pounds. It seemed,
Ellen, as if Satan had sent him there at that mo-
ment and had put this discourse between his lips,
in order to combine and strengthen all the in-
fluences which were impelling me towards the
vortex of crime. To be brief, I let a few words
drop— Frederick caught at them — I strove to
evade his queries — but he pressed me— he fol-
lowed up every fresh admission which in the ex-
cited state of my feelings I unguardedly made—
until he wormed out of me the entire secret.
Then Satan, who had been hitherto tempting me
unseen, entered into the shape of Lord Frederick
Bavenscliffe— and the infernal plot was devised.
You shudder, Ellen "

" Proceed, proceed, Melissa !" I exclaimed.
" Tell me all the rest !"

" I will, I will !" she responded : " frankly will
I unbosom myself! But Ob! now how terribly
are your feelings to be wounded — is your modesty
to be shocked ! Your pure nature, Ellen, will
revolt in horror and loathing at the foulness of
the deed "

" Continue," I said ; " it is a tale that I must
hear !"

" The packet was opened," proceeded Melissa ;
" an answer was penned in your name to Lord
Tynedale — it was I who wrote it. Would that
ray hand had been suddenly palsied ! would that
lightnings had seared my eyes! But no !— it was

310

ELI.EK PBBCT; OB, THS UBMOIBS OP A.ir ACTBBS8.

destined that the crime should be consummated ;
and it was ! The letter — the odious letter which
I penned in your name— accepted the overture of
the Marquis to a certain extent and on certain
express conditions. You were made to say that
you would not become his mistress, to be perma-
nently pensioned by him — but that you would
surrender yourself to his arms "

" Good Grod !" I murmured, my frame literally
writhing with torture as I listened to the horrible,
shocking narrative.

" Ah ! no wonder," cried Melissa, " that you are
thus moved ! £ut for heaven's sake let me make
an end of the narrative of that foul transaction.
In the letter which I penned in your name, you
w'ere made to state that you would that same
evening at ten o'clock visit his lordship at Tyne.
dale Lodge— that you were to be admitted thither
under all possible circumstances of secrecy— and
that there were yet other conditions which you
would subsequently have to enjoin. To that com-
munication the Marquis was to send a reply ad-
dressed to you under cover to a friend of your's,
as you did not wish to receive any secret corre-
spondence at Mr. Norman's house in Hunter
Street. Need I add that my own name and the
address of this house were given as the alleged
means of ensuring the privacy of your communi-
cations with the Marquis? He lost no time in
sending his answer, — which was anxiously awaited
by Lord Frederick and myself. We opened it.
Its language was that of rapturous joy and pas-
sion: one might have thought that it had been
penned by an ardent youth of less than half that
nobleman's age. It agreed to everything you
might choose to stipulate— it proclaimed his readi-
ness to obey your will in all things. Then the
plot — that vile iniquitous plot— proceeded ; and I
—wretch that I was ! — carried it out to the end.
Deeply veiled — veiled so closely indeed that it
was impossible for even the keenest eye to dis-
cern my features through that thrice-folded veil
—I presented myself at Tynedale Lodge. I
was at once conducted to the Marquis, who re-
ceived me in an apartment communicating with a
chamber. I murmured some words to the effect
that not for worlds could I reveal my blushes and
my confusion ; and he in his infatuation was ready
to believe anything or everything. We imme-
diately retired together— and I at once extin-
guished the lights in the chamber,— locking the
door likewise, and securing the key. At a very
early hour in the morning, before the faintest
glimmer of daylight could penetrate between the
well-closed curtains, I prepared to leave him. I
then explained the conditions to which I had
alluded in the letter as those yet remaining to be
stipulated. I enjoined him never to accost me
either in private or in public— never to come near
me — never to write to me — never, if he visited the
theatre, to fling a significant look upon me. But
in order that he might adhere to these conditions,
I skilfully interwove a hint that the faithful ob-
servance of them constituted his only hope of
meeting me again at some future period, when
perhaps I might consent to become his mistress
altogether. I was speaking as if it were you,
Ellen, that was thus addressing him : I simulated
your Voice to the best of my ability ; and in the
depth of his infatuation he was completely de.

ceived. Then I abruptly left him ; and, again
closely veiled, issued unobserved from the house."
All the latter portion of Melissa's narrative had
been broken by frequent self-upbraidings and
vehemently ejaculated self-reproaches. But these
I have omitted,— preferring to give the tale as
continuous a flow as possible. I can scarcely de-
scribe the feelings with which I listened to it,—
my blood at one moment running like molten lead
in my veins — then suddenly stagnating,— and my
frame trembling and quivering and shivering, or
else having a sensation as if I were writhing in
the burning profundities of a volcano. For it was
fearful and shocking, hideous and horrifying, to
listen to all those details of consummate villany,
— a villany which made Melissa seem in my eyes
a very demoness in female shape— a poisonous
reptile clothed in so fair a skin !

CHAPTEE LIV.

IHE PAETX AT THE THEATEB.

Yet if such were the feelings which I experienced
— if such were my emotions and such my sensa-
tions—it is but fair to admit that Melissa Harri-
son displayed the utmost contrition and remorse
for the foul atrocity of which she had been guilty.
After an interval of silence — during which she sat
before me, the image of wretchedness and despair
—she suddenly burst forth into the most pas-
sionate lamentations — the most vehement self-
upbraidings. I had however at the moment so
little commiseration for her— I held her in such
deep disgust and in such strong abhorrence— that
I should have suffered her to rave on, were it not
that I was fearful the other inmates of the house
would be alarmed. I accordingly bade her be
silent, sit down, and listen to me.

"You have perpetrated a wickedness," I said,
"which is without a parallel in the history of
womankind. I can possibly understand, from all
that I have heard, read, and seen passing aroiiad
me, that a female may sacrifice her own reputa-
tion in order to gratify some particular passion.
But that she should deliberately, wilfully, and
wantonly sacrifice the good name of another of
her own sex, is an unheard of turpitude. You
cannot wonder that I speak strongly : the wonder
would be if I did not. But still, Melissa, I am
not inclined to fly from my word. I promised to
shield you from the wrath of Lord Tynedale to
that extent which is compatible with the vindica-
tion of my own outraged fame ; and I will hold
to my pledge. But you will at once answer me a
few questions."

Melissa had been weeping bitterly while I thus
addressed her; and she now tremulously mur-
mured, "Ask me what you will, Ellen— rest as-
sured that I shall reply truthfully and frankly."

"I presume," I said, "that you perpetrated
this infamous crime in order that the Marqui* of
Tynedale should fie satisfied by the way in which
he had disposed of so large a sum of money ?"

" Yes — such was my motive," responded
Melissa : " such was the nature of the plot
suggested by Lord Frederick and executed by
myself."

BLLEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACXKESS,

311

" And at the theatre," I continued, " the other
night, when you with eo much seeming frankness
recommended me to burn unopened any letters
which his lordship might direct to me, — you
feared that if he did chance to write, he might
perhaps address his correspondence to Hunter
Street instead of under cover to yourself as my
supposed friend ?"

" Yes— there again you have rightly fathomed
my motive," rejoined Melissa.

"Now answer me another question," I said.
" Has Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe ever spoken
I mean has he ever dared to speak disre-
spectfully of Juliet Norman ?"

" Never," answered Melissa. " Her name has
not been mentioned, unless very casually, since
the day when he met me in the street and in-
quired how the Normans treated the occurrence
at the theatre, when himself and Colonel Bellew
made their appearance in the Green Eoom."

"And now tell me, Melissa," I said, "what
were your plans ? — what happiness did you hope
to derive from the possession of so much money
eo iniquitously obtained ?"

"There are several particulars which I have yet
to give you," answered Melissa. " Lord Frederick
represented to me at the time that it was very
fortunate I had spoken to him about the cheque,
as there were always certain formalities to be ful-
filled at a banking-house notwithstanding that the
draft might be simply made payable to the bearer,
and though previous advice had been given by the
individual who drew it,"

" In this he utterly deceived you, Melissa," I
replied ; " for there are no formalities whatever
in such a case : the act of presentation is simple,
9nd the draft is paid upon the spot. But doubt-
less he had his own purposes to serve — he was
desirous that he himself should obtain possession
of the cheque— and perhaps he has retained the
greater portion of the money ?"

" He said that he had better keep the bulk of
it," rejoined Melissa: "but he gave me five hun-
dred pounds to hold in my own possession. He
bade me continue my avocation at the theatre for
a little while — to avoid making any sudden change
in my appearance as regards dress — and to live
quietly and unostentatiously as before, so that by
such a line of conduct no suspicion might be ex-
cited. But it was arranged between us that in
two or three weeks we should depart for the Con-
tinent together ; and as our purse would be in
common, I had no ejection that be should retain
the bulk of the money."

" And did it never strike you, Melissa," I asked,
" that he might be grossly deceiving you the whole
time — that he meant to squander upon his own
pleasures the riches you had earned by the infamy
of infamies,- infamy in your own person and in-
famy towards myself ! Did it never occur to you,
I ask, that in a short while he would throw you
off— that he would abandon you— and that you
would see no more of the wealth you had entrusted
to his keeping ?"

"If I thought him capable of such villany,"
exclaimed Melissa, her eyes flashing and her
bosom swelling, " I would "

" How can you speak thus ?" I asked, almost
with indignation : " how can you throw out a
doubt relative to bis capability of such conduct.

when you have told me that it was he himself
who suggested the fiendish plot by which tho
gold was obtained and my good name was sacri-
ficed ?"

" Alas, all this is but too true !" murmured Me-
lissa Harrison, with deepest mournfulness and
with a look of the most abject shame.

" And now tell me," I said, " how much you
have remaining of the five hundred pounds which
he entrusted to your keeping ?"

" I have it all," rejoined Melissa, "with the ex-
ception of some five-and- twenty or thirty pounds
which I have spent, the greater portion in those
pieces for dresses, which were to be got in rea'li-
ness for our intended trip to the Continent. But
here is the money ; and Oh ! for God's sake tako
it ! I shall feel happier when it is gone !"

" Yes — I shall take it," I answered ; " and to
deprive you of it, even to the uttermost farthing,
is an act of justice, imperative and retributive,
under the cirumstances."

Melissa had in the meanwhile opened a writing-
desk ; — and thence she took forth a quantity oc
notes and gold. On hastily counting the sum, I
found that it corresponded pretty accurately with
the statement which she had previously made in
respect to the amount that remained to her j — and
I took possession of it.

"Now, Melissa," I said, "you must afc once
accompany me to Kensington."

" Ob, my God \" she cried, clasping her hands
in anguish : " if the angry Marquis were to give
me into custody ! Alas, my poor child "

" You should have thought of all these risks and
dangers," I said, " before you entered upon your
nefarious proceedings. But it is not likely, for his
own sake, that the Marquis of Tynedale will court
exposure, or take any step calculated to give pub-
licity to an occurrence that would only cover him •
self with ridicule and shame. Besides, I have
promised to shield you to the utmost of my power;
and I will even condescend to intercede for you.
But you must come at once ! It is only half-past
six," I continued, consulting my watch ; " and you
will be in time to return for the ballet 'if in-
deed you have strength and spirit for appearing on
the stage to- night."

" It is my duty to obey you in all things," an-
swered Melissa ; " and I will accompany you.
But for God's sake save me from exposure, dis-
grace, and punishment !"

In a few minutes we issued forth together from
the house : we entered a cab, and we proceeded to
Kensington. Not a word was spoken during the
hour occupied by the drive. I could not give
utterance to any casual remark that might seem
to be of a friendly or familiar character ; and I
had nothing more to say for the present in re-
spect to the hideous transaction that had been so
fully developed to my knowledge. I hated the
companionship of Melissa : I loathed her contact :
I regarded her as a prodigy of ingratitude, deceit,
and wickedness, notwithstanding all the contritiou
she had displayed. My feelings were still too
acutely chafed to permit me to regard her in a
more charitable, merciful, and forgiving light.
What her feelings must have been, I could only
conjecture, and must therefore leave the reader to
I imagine.
{ We reached Tynedale Lodge ; and I learnt on

313

ELLEN PEECT; OR, THE MEJIOIES OF AN ACTRESS.

inquiry that the Marquis was at home. Without
sending in any name, I desired an immediate in-
terview with him ; and a footman speedily ushered
Melissa and myself to the handsomely furnished
drawing-room, where his lordship joined us in the
course of a few minutes. He evidently expected
not whom he was to see ; for the instant I raised
my veil he started with visible surprise and de-
light ; and then his eyes settled upon Melissa.
She also raised her veil on a sign that I made her
to this efifect : she was deadly pale, and so terribly
agitated that she could not rise from her seat
when the Marquis entered the room. He was
about to address me with a bland smile and a
tender look, when I at once exclaimed, " My lord, I
am here for a motive very different from that which
you can possibly imagine. A stupendous fraud
has been perpetrated upon you ; and were it not
that for my reputation's sake I am bold, I
should blush and sink down to the earth with
shame at thus finding myself compelled to breathe
a single syllable in allusion to such profligacy-
such infamy. But here is the female who visited
you the other night ! — this is Melissa Harrison,
the pretended friend who received your lordship's
letter which was addressed to myself — that letter
in which you agreed to the stipulations she laid
down ! Here too is a portion of the money for
which she committed the foul crime. The re-
mainder was kept possession of by her paramour,
who was also her accomplice. I hope to recover
at least a portion of that sum for your lordship ;
and if it be necessary I shall unhesitatingly pro-
claim his name — though for the present I think
fit to conceal it."

It was in the midst of this speech that I tossed
upon the table the gold and bank-notes I had re-
ceived from Melissa Harrison; and the speech
itself produced an almost overwhelming effect
upon the Marquis of Tynedale. Surprise was
quickly heightened into astonishment — astonish-
ment was succeeded by consternation — conster-
nation gave place to the excitement of rage — and
rushing towards Melissa, he demanded in a hoarse
voice, "Is this true, young woman ?— is it true ?"

" For God's sake spare me !" she cried, falling
upon hev knees and stretching forth her clasped
bands in anguished entreaty to the Marquis.

" Then it is true !" he ejaculated, smiting him-
self furiously upon the chest. " To be sure ! I
should have suspected it! Fool, dolt that I have
been! Those minute precautions — that thickly
folded veil — darkness — the stipulations— -and
then that interview which I had to-day in the

Park with you, Miss TraSord all these things

should have opened my eyes, if infatuated folly
had not rendered me blind ! Yes, it is but too
true !— and I have been the veriest dupe, the
most besotted idiot the sun ever shone upon !"

"If your lordship's own conduct were other-
wise," I said, "it would not have rendered you
thus liable to deception and plunder."

" By heaven !" he ejaculated, his whole form
quivering with rage, " it is enough to drive one
mad! But I will be revenged !"

He was rushing towards the door — a cry rang
from Melissa's lips— and I, laying my hand upon
the arm of the Marquis, said emphatically, " lie-
member, my lord, that in order to punish this
sinful young woman you must expose yourself !

It is for you to judge whether you will dare the
ridicule of your friends, the scorn of the world,
the indignation of the good, and the contempt of
those who are as bad as you are."

He was visibly struck by my observations ; and
turning away from the door, ho surveyed Melissa
Harrison long and attentively. She had started
up from her kneeling posture when she gave vent
to that scream at the dread lest he intended to
summon the officers of justice to take her into
custody : and she was now standing, the picture
of distress, with her hands clasped.

" You have spoken truly. Miss Trafford," said
the Marquis, at length breaking silence— and he
now spoke in a far gentler voice than before :
" there must be no exposure !"

" And you are now to learn," I continued,
" how it happened that this erring young woman
was enabled to practice the deceit. She called
upon me a few minutes after 1 received your
letter containing the cheque. I showed her both
—for I believed that she was my friend— I be-
lieved likewise that she was well- principled. I
enclosed that letter and that cheque in a blank
envelope, to be returned to you — Melissa Harrison
undertook to deliver the packet your lordship
may imagine all the rest."

Having thus spoken, I bowed coldly and dis>
tantly to the Marquis of Tynedale, and moved
towards the door. Melissa followed me: but the
Marquis detained her for a moment while he whis-
pered something in her ear : and then she was
close behind me again. We both of us drew dowa
our veils as we issued from the house and took
our seats in the cab. The driver asked where he
was to take us?— and I bade him return into
London, telling him that I could presently pull the
check-string to give him additional orders — for I
was uncertain at the moment in respect to the
course which I should next pursue. I could not
trust Melissa, notwithstanding all the contrition
she had displayed and the terrorism which on ac-
count of her crime I was enabled to exercise over
her ; and I feared that if I lost sight of her before
all my objects were fully carried out, she might
give a speedy warning to Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliffe, and he might rush off to the Continent
with the intention of remaining there until the
storm should have blown over.

"Melissa," I said, after some few minutes of
reflection, " it is perhaps useless for me to inquire
what the Marquis of Tynedale whispered in your
ear at the instant you were following me from the
drawing-room—"

"What I" she exclaimed, "you think that I will
not tell you ? Oh ! rest assured that I mean to deal
truthfully with i/ou at least, in all things, as the
only means of showing my deep contrition for the
crime of which I have been guilty!"

"It is through no mere idle feeling of curiosity,"
I said, "that I seek to learn what his lordship
may have whispered to you : but if it regard
myself, I am justified under all circumstances in
asking to be made acquainted with it."

" It was simply a request," responded Melissa,
in a low tone, " that I would call upon him to-
morrow."

I made no comment upon this explanation — it
evidently regarded me not at all : but 1 fancied
that I could fathom his lordship's design. Indeed

ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACT3ESS.

313

, fh I

toy belief was that after ho had so attentively con-
templated Melissa, he found that she was to his
taste — that she was handsome and well-formed —
and that her person was attractive, — so that he
purposed to make her his mistress. But averting
my thoughts from that point— which was suffi-
ciently obnoxious to my feelings and repulsive to
my delicacy — I again reflected on the course which
I should pursue in reference to Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe. At length I said, " Melissa, when
are you next to see that young nobleman who has
been your accomplice in this lamentable trans-
action."

"He will be at the theatre this evening," she
answered: "he told me that he was to escort a
party of ladies; and I know that he has engaged
a box."

"Then we will repair to the theatre," I said,
" Is it your intention to dance this evening ?"
No. 40.— Ellbn Perct.

" If 1 go to the theatre, I must dance," re-
sponded Melissa. " What excuse could I possibly
make for declining to appear in the ballet? Be-
sides, I dare not risk the loss of my engagement —
I have now nothing but that to depend upon \"

I could not help thinking that there was in-
sincerity in Melissa's mind as she made these
observations, and that she was most anxious to
get to the theatre. Under this impression I sus-
pected that she would really seek an opportunity
to transmit a warning word to Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe ; and I was therefore resolved to lose
no time in adopting summary measures with that
young nobleman. I knew that it was of no use
to remonstrate with Melissa against any intention
that she might harbour of warning Lord Frederick
of the impending storm : for if she were resolved
upon such a course, she would be certain to carry
it out despite any promise that she might give to

314

EtLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS,

tbo contrary. I Lad a difficult part to play ; for
if Lord Frederick should flee from London, all my
plans would be baffled and frustrated.

It was thus that I continued to reason within
myself; and I'.aving determined how to act, I
pulled the check-string and ordered the cabman to
drive to the theatre. It was now close upon nine
o'clock, an(J the performances had thereforo com-
meuceJ soma time previously. On arriving at the
theatre— where, be it observed, I had not to per-
form on this particular evening — I repaired
straight to my own dressing-room, and hastily
penned a note to my father; for I had arranged
with him, ere we separated in the Park, how I
might be enabled to see him again at any moment
during the remainder of the day, if circumstances
should necessitate any additional communication
between us. Having scaled and addressed the
note to Mr. Forsyth— which was the name he had
now adopted— I lost not a moment in despatching
it by one of the underlings of the theatre to a
coffee-house near Hunter Street, where my father
was to bo found. Having taken this step, I nest
ascertained which bos Lord Frederick Raveusclitfo
Lad secured for his party of ladies; and I went
and took my seat in one of the stage-boses, which
was always at my disposal, and where I could
obtain a view of the one occupied by the young
nobleman and his friends. I could not possibly
continue to keep a close watch on Melissa Harri-
son's proceedings ; for as she dressed in the same
room with several other ballet-dancers, it would
Lave looked exceedingly strange if I had followed
her thither. I therefore took such precautions as
were within the limit of my power; and I was
compelled to leave something to the chapter of
accidents.

There were six ladies in tbo bos which Lord
Trederiok Eivenseliffe had engaged; and he him-
self was present with them. They were all young;
and one of them— to whom he evidently paid the
greatest attention — was sweetly beautiful. She
formed as it were the centre of the group : she was
dressed with simplicity, but in a manner that ad-
ruirably became her modest, delicate, and un-
assuming loveliness. She bad light hair ; and the
espression of her countecanca was replete with
goodness and innocence. Being myself unseen in
the stage-bos to which I had retii-ed, I was enabled
to watch the group to which lam alluding; and I
speedily beheld certain little manifestations on the
young nobleman's part which led me to suspect
that ho was paying his court to the interesting
young lady. If it were so, I experienced much
commiseration for her in case her heart should
have become engaged to that profligate patrieiau :
but on the other hand, I was well pleased to think
that I possessed the means of preventing an al-
liance which, if solemnized, could only result in
the unhappiness of that interesting creature.
Seven months had now elapsed since his contem-
plated union with Lady Cecilia Urban was broken
off in the manner which I have described in a
previous chapter; and there had consequently
been plenty of time for Lord Frederick to discover
some other heiress whose purse would be most
useful to one of his extravagant habits.

JuUot Norman, who knew that I was at the
tlieatre, presently joined me for a few minutes in
the private box ; and as she glanced towards that

other box which I had been watching, she said
with a bitter expression of countenance, " That
traitor! — he has not even the delicacy, under
existing circumstances, to remain away from a
place where he knows that I cannot fail to observe
his proceedings!"

I made no answer; and Juliet went on to say,
" You see that he is paying marked attention to
Felicia Gower ?"

'• Is that the name of the young lady with the
light hair and who has a bDuquet in her hand ?" I
inquired.

" Yes," replied Juliet: "I just now heard her
name mentioned. Her father is a rich country
gentleman — a widower ; and she is an only child.
She will inherit a large fortune at his death ; and
no doubt if she were to marry, he would give her
a handsome dower. Eat she shall not be sacri-
ficed !"

"No— she shall not, Juliet!" I said emphati-
cally.

" Ah ! I am delighted (o hear this assurauoe
from your lips!" rejoined Juliet. " It was you,
dearest Ellen, who prevented his marriage with
Lady Cecilia Urban ; and thoutjh I neve* kuew
the means which you adopted to achieve that
aim "

"No matter what the meaaa were," I gaailingly
interrupted her; "you saw that I succeeded —
and I think I may safely promise you an eqiiidij
signal success in the present instance."

Juliet pressed my hand, and hurried away from
the box; for she had not as yet commsaoed her
toilet for the ballet. When she was gone, I
thought to myself, as I glanced towards Lord
Frederick Eivenseliffe, " The oonduot of that
young nobleman is indelicate in more ways tlian
one. He brings a virtuous and innocent youug
lady to a theatre, where, upon the same stage,
will presently appear Juliet the victim of his vil-
lany, and Melissa his present mistress !"

At this moment I saw the door of Lord Fre-
derick's box open; and one of the box-keepers
handed him a note.

"That is from my father !" I instentancously
said to myself : and then, as a thought struck me,
I musingly added, "No — he can scarcely yet have
had time to pen a note and to reach the theatre.
It may be from Melissa, conveying the warning
which I all along suspected the treacherous crea-
ture would find some means to give ! Infatuated
must she be to care for one who pays his court to
another almost before her very eyes !"

But as these thoughts ran rapidly through ray
mind, I still kept my looks fixed upon Lord Fre-
derick's box. I saw him take the note from the
hand of the box-keeper : then I beheld him bend
down over Miss Gower's chair, behind which he
was standing : he whispered something in her ear
— he was no doubt courteously asking the usual
permission to open the note which had just been
placed in his handd. She looked up and smiled
with gracious sweetness. Yes, methought, she
assuredly loved him ! Poor girl ! what a dagger
was to be shortly thrust into her heart ! 1 felt
deeply for her.

Lord Frederick opened the billet; and scarcely
had his eyes caught sight of the contents, when I
behold him stagger as if he were smitten a sudden
blow ; and the note drooped from his hand. It

EtLBN PEECT; OK, THE MEM0IE3 03? AH ACTRESS.

315

fell into iliss Gower's lap ; aad she, doubtless
thinking that he had playfully dropped it there for
her to reail, instantaneously took it up. The next
moment Lord Frederick snatched it from her
hand : then the unfortunate Felicia sank back in
her chair — and all was immediately coufusioa in
that box, for she had fainted.

The incidents which I have just described were
all the work of a few instants; and as the general
attention of the audience was at the time riveted
upon the performance that was in progress upon
the stage, I did not think it probable that many
eyes besides my own observed all the minutiae of
that little scene previous to the swooning of Felicia
Gower. Then there was the usual sensation v.-hich
occurs in a theatre when any such incident takes
place ; and I heard several voices in the pit saying,
"She has fainted through the heat."

Lord Frederick Baveusclilfe sustained her in his
arms for a moment or two, until her lady-corn^
panions lent their succour; and the poor girl was
borne out of the box. I knew not now what
course to adopt. "Whether it were a note from
Melissa or from my father which had produced
such an effect first of all upon Lord Frederick
himself, and then upon Felicia, it nevertheless ap-
peared quite certain that the young nobleman had
become aware of some impending storm. Would
he now endeavour to save himself by flight .'' I
was for some moments bewildered how to act,— •
when I suddenly resolved upon repairing to the
eutrance-hall of the theatre. Thither I accord-
ingly sped; and just at that moment my father
made his appearance— not ia his disguise, but in
bis usual apparel.

" Here is the note !" he at once said as I ac-
costed him. " Let it be sent to Lord Frederick !"
" No — it is useless," I replied ; for I was now
convinced that t!ie billet which had been delivered
to the youQg nobleman in the box emanated from
Melissa. '•' Follow me quickly !"

I hastily led the way up the grand staircase : I
showed my father the passage communicating
with tho tier of boxes to which Lord Frederick's
belonged; and I said, "You will find him some-
where in that direction !"

But scarcely had I thus spoken, when Lord
Frederick himself was seen advancing, sustaining
Felicia with his arm. She had now recovered :
the other young ladies were following; and it was
evident that the party was about to leave the
theatre. Lord Frederick was whispering in a low
and earnest tone to Miss Gower, who was as white
as a sheet and had an anxious, dismayed, and be-
wildered look. Doubtless her treacherous com-
panion was endeavouring to reassure her in re-
spect to the c intents of the billet, whatever they
were, which had produced such a powerful effect
upon her. Indeed, so intent was he on his earnest
whispering in her ear, that he did not at first
notice my father, who was advancing to meet him
— while I, with my veil drawn down over my
countenance, remained at a little distance.

" Ah !" ejaculated Lord Frederick, as he sud-
denly caught sight of mj father's countenance.
" You here i"

" Yes, my lord," replied my father ; " and I
desire immediate speech with your lordship. Per-
haps you will read this note:" — and he handed
the one he had written accordinfr to tho instruc-

tions contained ia the letter which I had sent off
by the underline of the theatre.

'• This lady," I said, now stepping forward, and
alluding to Felicia — who, as well as her com-
panions, was eviJently astonished at the inci-
dent that was transpiring, — " has just been seized
with indisposition in the theatre ; and perhaps it
will be better for his lordship to escort her to her
carriage before he reads that note."

"Y'es, yes — I will do so!" exclaimed tho young
nobleman, who had started with terror and sur-
prise on recognising me, while his whole appear-
ance was that of a person who felt as if he were
standing on the very brink of perdition.

He hurried Felicia away,— the other young
ladies closely following ; while my father and I
brought up the rear; for I was determined not
to lose sight of the young nobleman— and having
a most difficult as well as important business in
hand, I could not be swayed by any consideration
of what the young ladies might think. "We de-
scended the stairs — we reached the entrance-hall
— and there Lord Frederick bade some one go out
and inquire for the carriages of Lord Carshalton
and Mr. Gower. During the few minutes which
elapsed ere the messenger returned, I saw that
Lord Frederick continued to speak in a low and
earnest manner to Felicia : but she no longer held
his arm — she looked agitated and distressed- she
listened in silence to what he said — and she flung
anxious inquiring glances towards my father and
myself. I continued to feel deeply pained on ac-
count of the young lady, who evidently saw that
something was wrong : but there was no help for
it — it was impossible to avoid the infliction of the
distress of perplexity upon her mind.

The messenger returned with the intimation
that the carriages were in readiness ; and tho
party pursued its way down the steps at the en-
trance of the theatre. Felicia and three of hec
companions were handed into one equipage : the
two remaining young ladies took their saats ia
the other. Lord Frederick lifted his hat in fare-
well salutation ; and as tho carriages drove off, ha
turned round, to be immediately confronted by my
father and myself.

" My lord," I said, " if you value your own
safety, utter not here a single syllable that may be
overheard by the persons standing by !"

He was completely dismayed by my presence ;
and I therefore know that Melissa must have con-
veyed to him the warning that I had discovered
everything in respect to Lord Tynedale's chequ9.

" But this note," faltered Lord Frederick,
glancing at my father, — " this note which you
placed in my hand—"

" It is unnecessary to read it now," I hastily
interrupted him. "You will accompany us to
Hunter Street."

I spoke in a peremptory manner ; and the yoirag
nobleman looked as if he were about to be led
forth to tho place of execution. A cab was at
once summoned : we all three entered it ; and it
drove away fcum the theatre.

S16

ELLEN PEBCT; OB, THB MEMOIBS 09 i.X ACTBE88.

CHAPTER LV.

IHE RE3ULX OF THE PLAN.

1 8H0ULO here explain that tlie note which my
father had written, to be sent in to Lord Frede-
rick Eavenscliffe's box, was to the effect that he
deeired an immediate interview with the young
nobleman on the most urgent and important busi-
ness regarding his lordship himself. If that note
had been delivered, as originally intended — and if
Lord Frederick had come forth to the entrance-
hall whither it summoned him — my father would
have informed him " that he was required to pro-
ceed at once to Hunter Street to be confronted
with Miss Percy in reference to Lord Tynedale's
cheque." It was then my intention to have left
the stage-box so soon as I should have seen Lord
Frederick quit his own box ; and then I should
have taken a cab to convey me with all possible
despatch to Hunter Street. But, as the reader
has seen, Melissa's warning missive had given a
different turn to the proceedings — though it was
now all the same to my father and myself, since
we had Lord Frederick a captive in our power
and the desired aim was thus far accomplished.

I knew perfectly well that Lord Frederick
Eavenseliffe must now speedily begin to suspect
the degree of close affinity which subsisted be-
tween my father and myself. From his own
father he had heard the history of the past career
of mine : he was consequently aware that my
parent's name was Percy — and now that he found
us thus together, acting in concert, he could not
fail to surmise that which might never before
have struck him. Sut for all this I was fully
prepared. I no longer sought to hide the matter
from the young nobleman; and I knew that so far
as the world at large was concern3d, I had the
means of insuring his secrecy. Indeed, I had
purposely brought my father as an active agent
into the present proceeding, in order that by his
interference in a good cause he might atone for
his former complicity in an evil one— and that this
atonement should be known not merely to the
young nobleman who had coerced my sire into
his iniquitous service, but likewise to the Normans
who had suffered so much through that deplorable
complicity.

We had not been seated many moments in the
cab, when I said to Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe,
" You must not imagine that he who accompanies
me is any longer in your power j for he has ob-
tained his pardon!"

"Yes — I know it," said the young nobleman.
"My father told me that he had been induced
— for some reasons which he did not however
explain — to intercede with the Home Secre-
tary "

" Then I will reveal to you that secret," I in-
terrupted him, " which your parents have evi-
dently kept with the most scrupulous generosity.
You know that my real name is Percy — that this
is likewise the real name "

" Ah ! I understand !" ejaculated Lord Frede-
rick, in accents of astonishment. " I was already
beginning to think, though confusedly and bewil-
deringly "

"But imagine not," I again interrupted him,

" that the knowledge of this secret will in any
manner avail you in the proceedings that are
about to take place. A secret it is so far as the
world generally is concerned — and a secret it shall
remain. But "

" For heaven's sake. Miss Percy," cried Lord
Frederick entreatingly, " tell me what you are
going to do P I know that you have discovered
everything "

"Yes — your guilty accomplice Melissa Harri-
son," I interjected, " has conveyed you a word of
warning. I saw a note placed in your hand in the
box. Oh ! I was infinitely concerned for the sake
of that young lady——"

" Good God ! what must she think ?" exclaimed
Lord Frederick, in accents of despair. " I feel as
if I were going mad— there is a wildness in my

brain But I will die, Miss Percy, sooner than

endure exposure in respect to what has come to
your knowledge ! My father and mother would
break their hearts! — my elder brother, who is
honour personified, would scorn and despise me !
In a word——"

" I will give you no explanations here" I in-
terrupted him. " But as I feel interested in the
unfortunate young lady whom you have doubtless
led to believe that you love, and who I fear loves
you deeply in return— I would fain know to what
extent she has this night been shocked, horrified,
and dismayed on your account. She saw the
billet which Melissa sent to you — its contents
produced a powerful effect upon her ■"

"Here is the billet," said Lord Frederick,
taking it from his waistcoat-pocket and presenting
it to me : fur he was now as submissive and humble,
as docile and as tractable as ever he had been
haughty and cruel, remorseless and supercilious.

By the aid of the gas-lights in the shops by
which we were passing, I read the few words
which Melissa had penned in the billet, and which
were as follow:—

" Ellen has discovered everything— and she is
meditating some mischief against you. Fly!-—
lose not a moment in departing for the Continent !
I will join you at Calais."

No name was appended to this billet ; and as it
was written very hurriedly and with a wretched
pen, it would have been impossible for any one
unacquainted with the circumstances, to decide
whether it was scribbled by a male or female
hand. Thus Miss Gower could have had no cer-
tainty on that point ; and it was no doubt one of
the details which Lord Frederick had been endea-
vouring to reason upon and explain away, when
he was whispering so earnestly in the young lady's
ear.

The cab soon reached Hunter Street; and it
stopped at Mr. Norman's house. The Normans
were still at the theatre, where I knew that they
would be detained for at least another hour ; and
thus there was ample time to enter into explana-
tions with Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe before
their return. My father alighted first ; and I
saw that he was keeping a close watch upon the
young nobleman as he followed next, so as to pre-
vent him from suddenly taking to his heels. He
did not however appear to have any intention of
this kind : his energies wore paralysed — he was

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE 1IEMOIH3 OP AX ACTEKS3.

317

utterly discomfited, crushed, and spirit-broken.
We entered tlio house : the servant who opened
the door, looked surprised to find me accompanied
by a person who was a stranger to him, and by
Lord Frederick BavensclifTe ; for a long while had
elapsed since the latter had last visited at that
dwelling.

I conducted my father and the young nobleman
to the drawing-room ; and having hastily thrown
off my bonnet and scarf upon a sofa, I said to my
father, " You have yet to learn the full extent of
that infamy which has been practised towards
your daughter !"

" If your father knows it not already, Miss
P<?rcy," cried Lord Frederick in a voice of the
most anguished entreaty, " I beseech you that he
may remain ignorant of it !"

" ily father already knows much upon the sub-
ject," I said, the indignant blood mantling upon
my cheeks; "and he shall know everything. Ah!
I can assure you, my lord, it is a very painful
ordeal for me to pass through ! Kever in all my
life before, did I experience an anger so fierce ! —
never were my feelings so terribly outraged !
Father," I continued, "this is the guilty indi-
vidual who devised the hideous fraud upon the
Marquis of Tynedale !— a fraud in which Melissa
Harrison was his profligate and abandoned accom-
plice ! But if providence had not opened a clue
for the unravelment of the whole skein of vil-
lany, the Marquis would have continued in w be-
lief most fatal to my character— —Ob, my blood
boils as I think of it !"

"Good God!" cried my father; "has human
wickedness gone to this fearful extent ? I under-
stand you, Ellen— I can now read it all ! Infa-
mous villain that you are !" he exclaimed, thus
suddenly addressing himself to Lord Frederick ;
and in a violent paroxysm of rage he seized the
young nobleman forcibly by the collar of bis
coat.

" Miss Percy, for heaven's sake spare me I"
said Havenscliffe, in a voice of anguish.

" Unhand him, father," I said : " do him no
violence ! — for there is one reason— and one reason
only, which prevents me from regretting that all
this has taken place, now that my character is
completely cleared and Lord Tynedale is disabused
of the ideas which hs eotertaiued concerning
me."

"Villain!" ejaculated my father : and he flung
the young nobleman from him ere he loosened his
hold upon his garment.

Lord Frederick fell upon a chair, where he sat
gazing upon me with a countenance that was
ghastly pale, and he was striving to give utterance
to some words : but for a while he could not. My
father paced to and fro in au excited manner ;
and I was so agitated by the nature of my feel-
ings that I could not at once resume my discourse
to Havenscliffe.

" Fur God's sake tell me, Miss Percy," he at
length said, — " Lord Tynedale knows everything
what will he do ? what does he threaten .'"

" He does not as yet know that i/ou were the
kistigator of the infamous fraud which that aban-
doned young woman perpetrated towards him. It
rests with yourself, my lord," I continued, " whether
the secret be kept — or whether it be proclaimed,
not merely to the Marquis of Tynedale, but to

the whole world. You know in whose house you
now are : — you know that presently the victim
of your foulest deception will return hither : — you
may probably surmise for what purpose you have
been brought to this abode. An act of justice
must be accomplished ! Juliet !N'orman has been
dishonoured by you — and you must repair the
evil ! Are you willing to do this as the sole con-
dition on which I will consent to keep that secret
whose revelation would stamp you with indelible
infamy ?"

" My God !— and Felicia ?" ejaculated Eavens-
cliffe, starting up in sudden frenzy from his seat.

" Ah, poor girl !" I said, with a deep sigh :
" she will doubtless suffer much from this ill-fated
love which she has conceived towards you ! But
even if I had it not in my power to demand for
Juliet the accomplishment of this act of justice,
I would not at all events suffer Mr. Gower, un-
warned or unadvised concerning your true cha-
racter, to bestow bis daughter upon your lord-
ship ?"

"But if I marry Juliet," exclaimed Havens*
cliffe, with anguished and passionate vehemence,
" how am I to maintain her P— how am I to main-
tain myself P I am ruined. Everything which
I inherited from the bounty of deceased relatives,
has been made away with. I am overwhelmed
with debts— I am a younger son— the allowance
my father makes me is insignificant— and if I were
to marry a ballet-dancer, he would discard me ut-
terly."

" It is impossible to take all these things into
consideration," I said, firmly and decisively ; "you
have robbed Juliet of her honour — you must make
her an honourable woman ! Even if you separate
immediately after the ceremony, this must be done :
and even if she be compelled to continue upon
the stage, as Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe the
ballet-dancer, still I repeat it must be done ! She
has but one thing to care for — and that is to have
the sacred name of wife conferred upon her. As
for the circumstances which personally regard
yourself alone, they are utterly beyond all con-
sideration. You had no consideration for poor
Juliet's feelings when you so grossly deceived her :
and do you therefore for an instant imagine that
there shall be a delicate consideration on your own
account?"

Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe gazed upon me
with a half frenzied, half woe-begone expression of
countenance, as I thus addressed him. But he
beheld nothing in my Loks to encourage the
faintest hope that I would recall anything that I
had said : he glanced at my father, who was now
standing with folded arms— and his features were
stern and resolute.

" Yes, my lord," he said, stepping forward, "you
shall do justice to that young woman whom you
so basely injured. You made use of the power
which the knowledge of my sad secret gave you,
to coerce me into an infamous complicity in your
crime: but now the tables are turned, and I make
use of my power over you to unite with my
daughter in enforcing this act of justice. If I
have sinned deeply, I am now at least making the
best atonement that is in my power. Yes, my
lord, you see before you two persons who are
firmly resolved to vindicate a female's outraged
honour; and the reparation shall be effected by youl"

818

EtliEK PBRCT; OB, THB MBSI0IE9 OF AS ACTEE3?«

"I am in your hands," said the young noble-
tnan, as if he were speaking in a dying tone : " I
must yield to this strong eoaipulsioa !"

"'Tis Tre!l that you have so decided," I said.
"But yott have yet something more to do. How-
much remains to you of the sum of four thousand
five hundred guineas which you retained as your
share of the Marquis of Tynedale's cheque ? Deal
frankly with me — beware how you deceire me—
Melissa has confessed everything "

"I will speak truthfully," answered the young
nobleman. " A considerable portion I have ex-
pended : the remainder is at my banker's."

'•■ Who is your banker ?" demanded my father
abruptly.

BavenscliSb named the firm with which he
transacted his financial business.

" Grood !" said my father. '•' Now if you deceive
us iu respect to the amount that you have in your
banker's hands, wo shall be enabled to discover
the deception."

"I ^ill not deceive you !" responded Ravens-
cliffe. " I know that I have something above a
couple of thousand pounds in my banker's hands."

'•'Sit down immediately," said my father, "and
Write a draft for two thousand pounds. That
amount shall be returned to the Marquis of Tyne-
dale."

"Yes— such was my intention," I said. "The
money you left in Melissa's hands, has all, with the
exception of a few pounds, been restored to his
lordship. He will still suffer considerable loss :
but I cannot pity hitn. It is through no friendly
feeling towards the Marquis of Tynedale that I
seek thus to procure the restitution of as much as
possible of the amount which he sought to expend
for an infamous purpose : but it is because justice
requires that naither you nor Melissa may profit
more than can ba helped from the elfecta of your
own crime."

Lord Frederick Eivenscliffe sat down at the
table upon which there were writing materials :
his countenance was still ghastly pale— and his
hand trembled so that for upwards of a minute he
was scarcely able to guide the pen. My father
bade him take time; and at length the young
nobleman accomplished his task. I bade my
father take charge of the cheque ; and I said,
"To-morrow the Marquis of Tynedale shall receive
the amount."

"But my name will not be mentioned ?" ex-
claimed Lord Frederick entreatingly.

"I have already pledged myself to that effect,"
I replied. " In a word, my lord, your terrible
secret shall travel no farther than it is already
known, if you pledge yourself to keep my father's
secret. The Xormans will presently know that
he is my father "

"But why so, Ellen?'* asked my sire, asto-
nished at the announcement.

"Because the system of concealment must no
longer be maintained with such kind friends as
those," 1 replied ; " and because it is necessary I
should explain to them how you and I were acting
together. Yes — they shall know that you are my
father ; but of your past life they need know no-
thing ! Therefore, my lord," I continued, again
addressing myself to Eavenseliffi.', " your stupen-
dous secret shall be kept so long as you faithfully
maintain my father's sal secret. She whom to-

I morrow you will espouse, shall never learn from
' my lips by what means the espousal itself was
I brought about. I will give Juliet and the Xor«
j mans to understand that it was my father who
I did it all, by threatening to expose the whole plot
t of the mock marriage to the world, surrender him*
^ self up to justice, and hand your lordship over to
: the law's strong arm at the same time."

Scarcely had I thus spoken, when the Normans'

carriage was heard to stop in front of the house ;

' and making a sign to my father to keep a watch

1 upon Lord Frederick, I issued from the room.

My heart now palpitated violently : I was about

' to impart to the Nofmans intelligence of the most

• momentous character — though I had no doubt how

: it would be received : for 1 knew that Juliet

I would readily adopt a course that was calculated

to elevate her in her own opinion by atoning for

her dishonour ; and her parents had occasionally

said to me, when I happened to be alone with

them, that they should not have cared so mucli if

Lord Frederick had only espoused Juliet, even

though he had cast her off almost immediately, for

still she would have been a wife, and she would

not have lived in the constant terror lest the

secret of her disgrace should transpire.

I Hastily descending the stairs — my heart beating

as audibly as the rapid tread of my feet themselves

I —I met the Normans in the hall.

I " Why, Ellen," exclaimed Juliet, "' what made

you quit the theatre so suddenly ? I thought you

, intended to wait to come home with us "

I " I have much to explain, dear Juliet," was
I my response.

I " Good heavens ! has anything happened ?" ahe
^ exclaimed. "' You have a strange look, as if you

', were agitated and excited "

" Come this way," I said, beckoning Juliet and
her parents to follow me; and I led them into tho
; dining-room, where a lamp was burning upon the
supper-table.

" What has happened, my dear girl ?" asked
Mrs. Norman, throwing herself upon a chair and
looking frightened.

" Nothing to alarm you," I hastened to ex-
claim: "so set all your fears at rest I But I
think — I hope indeed that I have intelligence to
impart which will not be altogether disagreeable.
Nay, I am sure you will all three rejoice !"
j Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Juliet surveyed me
with the utmost curiosity and bewilderment : but
: not to keep them longer than was necessary in a
state of suspense, I said, " Juliet, my dear friend,
answer me ! If Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe were
to enter the room this moment and offer to confer
upon yau the honourable name of loife, would you
accept or refuse the proposition ?"

" Good heaven 1 is this possible ?" cried Juliet,
clasping her hands together. "' If any one else
put such a question, I should say that it was a
cruel jest ! But yoa, Ellen, I know are inca-
pable "

i "■ Ah, if it were indeed true ?" said Mr. Nor-
' man.

" What joy ! what happiness ! " exclaimed his
wife : " for then poor Juliet might look the world

I boldly in the face "

" And it is true !" T said. "' To-morrow, my
. dear friend, shall you become a wife !"
! With a wild cry of delight Juliet flew into my

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AK ACTEES3.

319

arms : she embraced me with the utmost fervour
—she covered ray cheeks with kisses, as well as
with the tears of joy wiiich flowed from her eyes.
Then she sank, cxfanusted with her feelings, upon
chair. Mrs. Norman embraced me ; and Mr,

irregularities of life he fell from bis position as a
gentleman — and when he performed that ceremony
which was the cause of your unhappiness, Juliet,
he was not lawfully capable of solemnizing it. But
now all shall bo repaired— all atoned for ; and to-

Norman, pressing my hand, said, "Heaven bless i morrow shall we greet you as Lady Frederick
you, Ellen ! You are a good angel to us !" Eavenjcliife !"

There was a paus?, during which we all gave, ! After a little more conversation, I left the Xor-
way to the emotions that were agitating within us | mans in the dining-room, and ascended to the
—until at length Mr. Norman asked, " But how ; drawing-room. There I found my father placed

came all this about p Surely it was not of bia

own free will "

" Oh, no !" exclaimed Juliet : " we cannot for
an instant suppose it ! I am fully prepared to
learn that Frederick is acting under coercion.
But no matter ! To become a wife— to be relieved
from the horrible apprehension that the secret of

near the door, evidently for the purpose of pro-
venting any sudden escape on the part of the
young nobleman. As for Lord Frederick himself,
he was seated on a sofa on the opposite side of the
apartment,— his face buried in his hands, and his
elbows resting upon bis knees. He did not hear
the door open : he was not aware of my presenca

my shame may at any moment by an accident be until I began to address him.

revealed " " My lord," I said, " Juliet and her parents

"Yes — be is acting under coercion," I said; have returned home: I have communicated to
" and that coercion is of the strongest kind ! You ^them the decision which you have adopted— but
know Lim who bore the name of Croft Oh ! I have in every sense respected your secret accord-

give not utterance to harsh epithets towards him !
—he is now making every atonement — it ia to
him that you are indebted for this audden and
happy change !"

" Then for the good he is now doing," said Mr.
Norman, " we will pardon him the whole amount
of past evil."

" Yes— wo will ! we will !" exclaimed Mrs. Nor-
man, with equal enthusiasm.

" Ob, most cheerfully ! most cheerfully !" cried
Juliet, with all the mingled nervousness and ex-
citement of feelings agitated by hope, suspense,
joy, and gratitude.

'•■ Now prepare yourselves," I said, in a solemn
tone, " to hear something of a startling character,
—something which if I have so long concealed
from you, it has been through no want of confi-
dence—no deficiency of friendly feeling— but from
a motive which perhaps you will easily compre-
hend. In a word, he whom you know as Mr.
Croft— he whom you have so generously pro-
claimed your intention of forgiving he is my

own father !"

Ejaculations of astonishment burst from the
lips of Juliet and her mother; but Mr. Norman
stood regarding me with a vacant and bewildered
expression of countenance.

" Yes— it is so !" I continued j " it is so ! The
discovery was made when I went to Embledon
some few months after that deplorable proceeding
in which my unfortunate father assisted — for he
has been unfortunate "

"No matter, Ellen!" exclaimed Juliet, the
tears flowing from her eyes, — " no matter that he
should have been an accessory in injuring me ! He
is now repairing the mischief to the extent of his
power— and Oh ! even if it were otherwise, I
should for your sake forgive him !"

'•' Generous friend !" I murmured, embracing
Juliet warmly : and I received similarly kind
assurances from her parents.

" He is in the house at this moment," I said,
wiping away the tears that were trickling also
from ray own eyes. " He and Lord Frederick are
together — they are in the drawing-room — and the
young nobleman is completely under the influence
of my father. But I should explain to you that
my father was once a clergyman — through certain

ing to the promise which I made you."

"And Juliet will accept me?" said Lord Frede-
rick, suddenly gazing up into my countenance:
and ia a moment I read what was passing in his
mind : — as a last faint hope he was clinging to tho
idea that Juliet might after all refuse to accom-
pany him to the altar.

" Yes— she accepts you," I replied. "And now
we must deliberate upon the final arrangements."

"Leave them all to me, Ellen," said my father,
" I have already informed Lord Frederick Eavens-
cliffe that he will accompany me hence, and that
he will pass the night at my lodgings. Be not
afraid that he will endeavour to escape : he knows
the penalty of making such an attempt. At the
slightest evidence thereof would I pitilessly and
remorselessly hand him over to the custody of tho
police ! In short, he is well aware that this is a
matter in which therMPUst be neither trifling not
treachery." ^

"Believe me," said the young nobleman, in a
low deep voice, " I am a man so completely
broken down by all that has happened— so utterly
degraded in my own estimation — that my energy
is crushed— I am as a child in your hands— and I
accept the destiny of which ye have become the
arbiters."

" Bid Mr. Norman bave ererytbing in readi-
ness here to-morrow at eleven in the forenoon,"
whispered my father to me. "Let the clergy-
man be present. I will take care that Lord
Frederick does not escape me : I will bring a
special license ; and the ceremony shall be accom-
plished. Your friend Juliet shall at least receira
the honourable title of a wife : but what her hus-
band's subsequent conduct may be— what arrange-
ments he may propose, or how he may deport
himself towards her— it is impossible for us to
conjecture !"

" True, dear father," I replied : " those matters
we must leave to chance. But there is one thing
I have to communicate : it is that the Normans

have most cordially forgiven you and this

assurance they will breathe in your ear when you
meet."

My father wrung my hand : he then beckoned
Lord Frederick to precede him : the young noble-
man bowed to me with mingled courtesy and dis-

320

ELLEN PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIItS OF AW ACTRESS.

tress— and the next moment I was alone in the
drawing-room. When I heard the front door
close, I descended to the dining-room, where I
informed the Normans of the arrangements that
were made for the morrow. I then proceeded to
acquaint them with everything Lord Frederick
had said with respect to his ruined circumstances.

" I am afraid, dearest Juliet," I considered it
my duty to add, " that in becoming a wife you
will not obtain an independent position. You

will receive a patrician title "

" And Juliet shall leave the stage," exclaimed
Mr. Norman, " whether her husband be enabled
to support her or not. We must live less expen-
sively— that is all ! But her mother and myself
can always command sufficient salaries to keep us

in comfort "

" Let us not deliberate upon these matters for
the present," said Juliet : " it will be sufficient
time when the ceremony shall have taken place ;
for I can hardly yet believe that everything will
progress smoothly."

" Rest assured that it will, dear Juliet," I an-
swered.

We shortly after separated to our respective
chambers ; and well wearied with all the exciting
scenes that had characterized this memorable day,
I soon sank into the arms of slumber.

I slept later than usual in the morning ; so that
I had not opened my eyes before Beda entered,
bringing two letters. One had been just delivered
by the postman — the other was brought almost at
the same moment by a livery-servant. The letter
which had arrived by post, had deep black edges to
the envelope : but this did not alarm me, as I in-
stantaneously recognised the handwriting of Mary
G-lentworth, who was in mourning for her mother.
Being in a hurry to rise and perform my toilet,
as it was so late, I laid Mary Glentworth's letter
unopened upon the table, to be read at my leisure :
but the other letter, which^d been brought by
the livery-servant, I at once opened, as the hand-
writing was completely unknown to me. Its con-
tents ran as follow :—•

" September 2otb, 1841.
" No. — , Stratton Street, Piccadilly.

" Mr. Gower presents his compliments to Miss
TraflFord ; and in consequence of something which
occurred at the theatre last evening, he respect-
fully solicits an interview with Miss Trafford. He
will wait upon Miss Trafford at her own residence
at any hour which may be specified, if this course
should be preferred : or Mr. and Miss Gower
would feel themselves obliged by a visit from Miss
Trafford this afternoon between two and three
o'clock.

" Mr. Gower apologizes for the liberty which
he is thus taking, as well as for intruding at so
early an hour, through the medium of a letter,
upon Miss Trafford's privacy : but not knowing
what her engagements may be, he considered it
expedient to communicate the first thing this
morning with Miss Traflford."

I had no difficulty in comprehending for what
purpose Felicia's father sought an interview with
me : his daughter must have told him everything
that had occurred at the theatre, and his suspicions
were naturally excited in reference to th<» young

nobleman who aspired to become his son in-law.
Again were all my compassionate feelings excited
on behalf of the interesting Felicia : for L felt
assured that Lord Frederick's courtship must have
gone to serious lengths, and that a proposal had
most probably been made, for her father to take
such a step as that which he was now adopting.
But I had not then time to decide upon the course
which I should follow — whether I should let him
come to me, or whether I should go to him ; for
it was considerably past nine o'clock — I had my
toilet to achieve — for at eleven the bridal cere*
mony was to take place.

It had been agreed with the Normans and my-
self that not a single syllable relative to the ex-
pected event should be breathed to any of the
servants, for fear lest by any accident Lord Frede*
rick should yet find the means to elude the ful-
filment of his pledge, — in which case poor Juliet
would only be overwhelmed with shame and vexa-
tion in the presence of the domestics of the house«
hold if they were suffered to know all. I there-
fore conversed only with Beda on a variety of
indifferent subjects ; and when my toilet was
accomplished, I was about to hasten from my
chamber to repair to the breakfast-room.

" You have forgotten your letters. Miss," said
Beda, indicating the still sealed one of Mary
Glentworth, and the opened one of Mr. Gower,
both of which lay upon the toilet-table.

" Ah, true !" I ejaculated, snatching them up ;
and I thrust them into my pocket, with the in-
tention of finding a few minutes after breakfast
to read the one and to answer the other.

I sped to the parlour, where I found Mrs.
Norman and Juliet seated at the table; but
Mr. Norman had already gone out to procure the
attendance of the curate of the parish for the ap-
pointed hour. Juliet looked nervous ; and Mrs.
Norman kept saying encouraging things; for the
mother's ambition was flattered by the idea that
her daughter would soon bear a patrician title.
Juliet had also her own pride on this point : but
it was natural that she should be agitated with
the suspense of hope and fear under existing cir-
cumstances. It was ten minutes to eleven o'clock
when Mr. Norman returned with the clergyman;
and they went up to the drawing-room together.
Scarcely had they proceeded thither, when there
was another double knock at the door ; and after
exchanging a few rapid words with Mrs. Norman
and Juliet, I hastened out into the hall. My father
and Lord Frederick Ilaven8clifi"e were just enter-
ing;— and now the last source of apprehension
(which had however been but faint) was taken
from my mind ; for the young nobleman had not
fled— had not evaded my sire's vigilance— but had
accompanied him !

I beckoned them to follow me into the break-
fast-parlour ; and Juliet, having thrown one glance
upon Lord Frederick, hastened towards my father,
to whom in silence she proffered her hanl as a
token of her complete forgiveness. Mrs. Norman
lost not a moment in conveying a similar intima-
tion of pardon for the past ; and I saw that so
strong were my father's emotions that he could
not give utterance to a word. I looked towards
Lord Frederick: I saw that his demeanour was
different from what it was on the preceding even-
ing: it was cold, and was characterized by what

ELLEN PEECY ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3.

321

7,LS.RY GLENTWORTH.

may be termed a desperate resignation. He had
merely bowed distantly and somewhat haughtily
to Mrs. Korman and Juliet : but towards me
there was a momentary display of a humbler
courtesy. Juliet, upon perceiving the air which
be adopted, instantaneously threw oS the nervous-
ness which had before possessed her ; and she
assumed a look of digniQed composure, — which
however had nothing of petty defiance or mean-
spirited triumph in it. It was exactly the
demeanour which in existing circumstances she
could best assume, or rather arm herself with.

" My lord," said my father, at length regaiuiog
his self-possession and breaking silence, " I leave
it to your good taste and gentlemanly feeling to
determine whether it shall be with the air of a
martyr that you will conduct this young lady into
the presence of the clergyman ?— or whether you
will not, no matter what your own feelings may
be, at least throw such a gloss over the proceeding
No. 41.— EIJ.EH Peecy.

that the mmister shall not go hence to proclaim
amongst his friends how singular a bridal he was
called upon to celebrate ?"

" And I, my lord," I said, " unite with my
father in making a similar remonstrance — or if
you like it best, we will term it an appeal to your
feelings as a gentleman."

" Ob, if it be necessary that I shall play the
part of the happy bridegroom," exclaimed Lord
Frederick, with an hysterical laugh, " let it be so !
Juliet, my dear girl, I am prepared to lead you
whithersoever it ia necessary to go that you may
become indissolubly mine."

Juliet became ashy pale ; and as she bit her lips
to keep down an explosion of haughtiest indigna-
tion at this cruel banter, her white teeth literally
gleamed, and her bosom swelled as if it were
about to burst from the prisonage of its corset.
Then all in an instant the blood rushed to her
uheeks, and a tear started forth from each eye.

But hastily dashinsj them away, she gave her
liand to Lord Frederick, — who at the instant was
quailing beneath the look of mingled indigaation
and coutempt, scorn and menace, wliieh I flung
upon him.

We nosv all issued forth from the breakfast,
parlour and ascended to the drawing-room; and
on our way thither we did not happen to meet
any one of the servants of the household— al-
though they must by this time have begun to
suspect that something unusual was going to
take place. We entered the drawing-room ; and
Mr. Norman at once hastensd forward to shake
hands with my father, and thereby convey to him
the same token of forgiveDess which ha had al-
ready received from Mrs. Norman and Juliet. The
clergyman had put on his canonicals ; his clerk
was likewise in attendance. Lord Frederick and
Juliet now wore a grave and solemn demeanour,
which in each ease served as ft mask to veil the
real feelings which might be agitating within
them ; so that neither the minister nor his clerk
were likely to notice that there was anything ex-
traordinary in the present proceedings. My father
produced the special license which he apd Lord
Frederick had been to procure before coming to
Hunter Street ; and the ceremony commenced.

It progressed — it concluded —and my friend
Juliet was now veritably and beyond all possi*
bility of doubt Lftdy Frederick Eaveascliffe !

CHAPTER LVI.

THB ULACK-EDGED LETXEK.

Ye3, Juliet was now a wife !— the wife of him
who in the first instance had so cruelly outraged
her— of hioj to whom in her anguish she had
afterwards knelt imploring that he would bestow
a father's name upon her then unborn child — of
him who had nevertheless abandoned her and had
sought the hand of Lady Cecilia Urban— of him
who had treated with cold silence the letter which
bad communicated to him the birth and death of
his infant — of him who had only so recently in-
sulted Juliet in the Green Room as if she were a
licensed object for his libertine freedoms— of him
who on the previous evening had been seated
lovingly with Felicia Gower, whose hand in mar-
riage he had sought ! Yes— of this young man,
apparently so heartless and so destitute of all good
piinciple, had Juliet now become the wifej and
jet 1 was rejoiced at the accomplishment of a
measure in which for the very best of motives I
had taken so large a £hare !

When the ceremony was over. Lord Frederick
made a movement to kiss the cheek of his bride ;
and she met him as it were half-way, — both thus
sustaining appearances in the presence of the
clergyman and the clerk. The minister — perceiv-
ing that it was altogether a private affair, and no
doubt in his own mind accounting for the fact
from his knowledge that the bridegroom was a
scion of a patrician family and the bride a ballet-
dancer — hastened to take his departure so soon as
the requisite ducumeuts were signed. Those
pipers my father at once took up from the table,
i-u.l presculed them to Mr. liormun, — saying in a

low but emphatic tone, " You are the best cus-
todian of these proofs of your daughter's mar-
riage."

The clergyman and the clerk having retired, a
strange embarrassing silence followed ; for Lord
Frederick Ravenscliffe, throwing himself upon a
sofa, fell into a profound meditation. It was evi-
dent to us all that ho was reflecting upon the
course which he should adopt towards his bride ;
and none of us spoke a word. Mrs. Norman,
though full of suspense as to what the young
nobleman's decision might be, drew her daughter
aside and silently folded her in her arms, in mute
but eloquent congratulation on the circumstance
which had given her the honourable distinction of
tvife. Mr. Korman joined his wife and daughter
at the extremity of the apartment : my father
stood watching the countenance of Lord Frederick
Ravenscliffe ; and I sat down in a window-recess.
Feeling all the awkwardness and constraint of the
present scene, I sought for something that might
serve for a momentary occupation, so as to avoid
having the appearance of an undignified anxiety
or curiosity in respect to what might be passing
in the bridegroom's thoughts. It was more me-
chanically than intentionally that I drew forth
from my pocket the two letters which I had re-
ceived; and returning Mr. Gower'a billet to that
pocket, I proceeded to open Mary Glentworth's
missive. The first few lines startled me, and then
filled mo with the deepest affliction. But my
mind was still under the influence of that feeling
of restraint which acted with the effect of a solemn
awe; and no ejaculation escaped my lips. The
tears fell from my eyes : I wiped them away, for
they were blinding me ; and I continued to read
the letter. Then, in consequence of something
which it contained, I glanced towards Juliet — and
I glanced towards Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe : I
was about to speak— I was on the very point of
making some communication — when the young
nobleman suddenly started to his feet— and I held
my peace.

" My destiny must be accepted !" he exclaimed,
with the air of one who had after some delibera-
tion made up his mind to a particular course;
" and I must bend to all these new circumstances
by which I am surrounded !"

The Normans advanced from the farther ex-
tremity of the apartment: my sire's countenance
showed that ho was bewildered how to form a con-
jecture relative to what Lord Frederick meant;
and I was a prey to an equal amount of per-
plexity.

" Juliet," said the young nobleman, advancing
towards the bride, " you are Lady Frederick
Ravenscliffe. I have wedded you— and I acknow-
ledge you as such. It is no compliment for me
to declare that in many respects you are a wife
of whom I need not be ashamed. The wrongs I
have done you are immense ! That you can ever
love me again, is not for an instant to be sup-
posed! But answer me one question. If I swear
to you that I will behave well and kindly to you—-
if I take God to witness that I will never again
allude to that coercion whose pressure has been
brought to bear up«n me— if in short I propose a
general cessation of all rancours end animosities,—
answer me, Juliet, will you live with me ?"

I saw that her countenance was changing

ELLEW PEECY ; OH, THE ]UE3J:OIE3 OF AN ACTEES3'

323

during this speech — tbat the colour was Koing
and coming iu rapid transitions upon ber cheeks
—that the tears were gatlicring in her fine Tiolet
cjes— that her rich full lips were quivering — and
that her bosom was risinja: and sinkinj^ with quick
hearings. She was touclifd— she was moved: the
bitterness she had for some time experienced
towards the vouug nobleman was melting within
ber : her breast was softening with the returning
sense of that love, once so passionate, with which
Bhe had regarded him ; and it wos in a tremulous
voice that in reply to his question she said, "I
will."

" But pause and reflect yet a little while," re-
Bumed Lord Frederick, who having made a step
forward as if to embnice hei', had suddenly stopped
short: "pause and reflect, I srj, whether you will
consent to follow the steps of a man whose for-
tunes are desperate indeed ! Embarrassed with
debts- my independent means made away with —
totally dependent therefore upon nay father for
the present, and on my brother who will succeed
him in the peerage and his hereditary estates—
inine is but a sorry position for a bridegroom !"

" You have asked me if I will live with you,"
responded Juliet ; " and I have replied in the
afiirmative — because as a wife it is my duty to
obey my husband — and because the observations
you have made seem to manifest — O God, I hope
so! — contrition for the past! If thereforo your
lot be poverty, mine shall bo poverty likewise,
shared with you !"

" Ah, Juliet !" exclaimed Lord Frederick, '•' the
wrongs you have suffered at my hands have been
signal and terrible : and beholding you now, hand-
eome ns you are— hearing the sound of your voice
—receiving fresh proofs of your kind and generous
disposition, I feel astonished that I could ever
Lave acted towards you as I have done ! But
when a man onco comoits a base aetioo, he is
compelled by the force of circumstances to perpe-
trate a thousand other basenesses to serve as de-
fence-works for the Crst. This, Juliet, has been
the case with me! And now I am ashamed to

look you in the face But, oh ! I will kneel at

your feet and implore your pardon !"

"No — you must not kneel to me!" exclaitned
Juliet: and bounding forward, she threw herself
into her husband's arms.

It. was a scene calculated as much to astonish
fis to afl"oct the minds of those who beheld it. It
was impossible to suppose that Lord Frederick was
plajing the part of a hypocrite now : there was no
recessity for any such dissimulation. But there
are few souls so utterly depraved as to be
without (heir momenta of weakness ; and the good
angel fates advantage of those moments to infuse
better thoughts and better feelings into the heart
that is thus melting. The solemnity of the bridal
service had no doubt produced its effect on the
young man's mind : then, when he again looked
at his bride, he saw that she was a being of whose
beauty any husband might be proud ; and his
former passion began to resuscitate itself within
bim. And then too, ho had doubtless reflected, in
a more worldly-minded sense, that as she was now
bis wife he had better resign himself with the best
possible gvnce to the acLxpf ation of his destiny ; —
and he had probably reasoned also, that the only
excuse which ho could offer to his parents and to

the world in general for having married a ballet-
dancer, was the love with which she had inspired
him. Thus, all things taken into account, it was
not really so much a subject for wonderment as it
first appeared, that Lord Frederick should adopt
the course which he was thus pursuing.

When Juliet flew into Lis arms and wept
audibly upon the breast to which she was strained,
Mr. Norman turned aside to conceal his tears-
Mrs. Norman sobbed as audibly as her daughter —
and my tears were again flowing fast, but for more
reasons than one.

" This is a happier result than we could possibly
have anticipated," whispered my father, bending
his face down to my ear.

" Yes— and in one sense it shall still be hep-
pier!" I eselaimed, starting up from my seat.

All eyes were now fixed upon me : for none but
my father coiaprehended how such au observation
had been evoked from my lips; while even ho
himself was still ignorant of the significancy of my
words.

"My lord," I said, advancing towards the young
nobleman, from whose embrace Juliet had disen-
gaged herself in startled surprise at my abrupt
ejaculation, " you have spoken and you have acted
in a manner which has gone far to redeem you in
the estimation of those who are now present."

" And I take heaven to witness my sincerity !"
he exclaimed. "Juliet shall leave the stage— and
we will repair together to the Continent until tha
state of my affairs can be thoroughly looked into.
Perhaps my father will not prove altogether re-
lentless. But if so, he will at least use his in-
fluence to procure me some small post by which
I may earn my bread ;— and I swear to you,
Juliet," ho added, emphatically, " that since you
have agreed to share my poverty, I will never
make it the subject of reproach or dispute !"

" You will see, my lord," I said, " that your
good angel has not altogether abandoned you, and
that heaven has not utterly cast you off. You
will not be doomed to poverty ! — and Juliet, with-
out being compelled to return to the stage, will
prove to you the source of means to live in comfort,
if not in positive affluence. — Juliet," I added, in a
solemn tone, while the eyes of all present were
fixed upon me in bewilderment and amaze, " by
the death of your aunt Mrs. Oldcastle you are the
heiress to an income of eight hundred a year."

" Ah, my poor aunt dead !" said Juliet, clasping
her hands, — " she who was so kind to me !"

" Mrs. Oldcastlo dead !" ejaculated Mr. afid
Mrs. Norman, as if both speaking in the aamo
breath.

" Yes— it is so," I replied. " She breathed her
last yesterday. The event is announced in a letter
from Mary Glontworth, which arrived by this
morning's post, but which from various circum-
stances I have only just opened."

There was a brief pause, during which all pre-
sent gave way to their reflections ; and then I read
Mary Glent worth's letter, tho contents of which
were as follow : —

" Eiver House, Dover,

" September 24, 1811.
"My dearest Ellen,
" It is my painful duty to announce a sad, sad
event— one which I know v.ill aftlict you greutly;

SIXm VIBCTi OB. TBI MBMOIB* Of AB ACTBBM.

for I bavf iMirnt lb«t rou ar* conMCl^d br bond*
of kinthip, lliouE^b ditUnI, with ber «bo bu bMn
•o kind • frionJ to m*— 1 meao Ur*. OldoMlle.
Tbe poor l»d.T brMtbM b»r iMt tbia aflorooon •!
four o'clock. I will ondasToar to g:iT« you •omo
ftw d«UiU. althougb taj mind, as joa mar aup-
poa«, it aadiT baraaa»d and afflicted. Thi* mora-
ine M we were aMUd at the br«*kfatl>t«bl<>, Mr*.
OMc*»tl» auddanlj plaoM b«>r hand upon b«r
hMTt, uttorod an ejaculation of pain, tvxk back in
bar ebair, and gaap^d a* if aba wero djin;. I at
OBM lor« at tbe bell, and au*t«in»d ber in my
arm*. Such reatoritire* a* myaelf and tbe acr-
T*nl4 deemed auitablc, were adminiaterod — and
with (uch effect that Mr«. Oldcutle aoon re-
coTered. She would not permit a medical man to
be aent for, thouf^b I endeavoured to perauade ber
to hare auch adrioe. I aaw that aoma grvat
change had tAkra p1aC4 in her; and I WAt
aerioudr alarmed. Alt bowerer went on well till
about one o'clock in the aftMitooo, when ahe waa
aeiied with another fit ; and aba wAa bora* to bar
eoueb. On beinj; re*tor«d to conaeioBiawt, aba
VAt Adriaad bj Mr. Singleton, the aurgeoB, wbo
WAa DOW aent for, and »hu »poke in term* a* d«tt*
AAto Aa poaaible, to aattla anj worldl? affair* tbat
aifht raqur* aaeh r«(«lAt*oii. Mr«. 01dc«*tle
baeAiDA coopletolj eompoaed Aod reaifDed : »be
at once aent for an Attomej from Dorer ; And in
tbe meAnwbile ahe d^tired me to fetch tbe writing*
de*k and i«ke out oertAin paper* which abe ooadad
for the ceremony of making her will. Mr. SinfW*
too ltd ua lofr^ber: but be did not quit tbe
boMA. Mr*. OMoAaU* daairad ma to commit to
pAper eartAia aiaior—Ai vbieb abe diclaled, And
which were to aerte a* a guile for the expectad
•ohcilor. She was then pleAMd to rvcBArk tbat
•a aba bad tbe fulleat confidence in me, aba would
•atntat to mj koowladg* certain aacrel* bitbarto
■akaown to ma. Sba told ma that jov. my d«Ar
BHwi. were ralated to bar ; Asd aba iaformad ma
Kkavite tbat tbe Toan«; lady wbom I bad knowa
A* Mr*. 11*11. WM in reAlity jour friend Mia* Nor>
man. She told me aII th# pArticular* of that an-
fortunato Touog lad;'* trial*, wroaga. aad aaffer-
inga. According to the aMatortMi^ which Mr*.
Oldeaatla dictoted to ma, aba diapoaad of bar pro-
party ia the followiog mAanar:— To bar grAad*
■iaca Jaliat XormAB aba baqoaAtbad tbe aaIaIa of
Birar Homa. aad TArioo* otbar propartMa (obiaiy
BOBiiiHiif of booaaa at Dorar) prodaeaag an in*
com* of 80CM. a yeAr,— tbaaa bequeath to b* ao
aetllad aad xitd up At to be impuaaible of atiea-
aiioB, Uabiliir, or miaebanoe, in cttte Juliet 2(or>
nan abould contract a marriage with any one who
might become inaolrent, bAnkmpt, or otherwise
embAiTAieed. To Mr. NortaAa Mra. OldcaaUe be-
quAAtbed the anm of l.uuiV. aterliag; aad to you,
SlUa. ah* baa Ml SjMOt. She wa* then kind
enongb to mention my aAme ia connexion with a
baqnaAl of 60(M. : bat I eairaAted tbat abe woald
BM tbaa deptiTA ber kiadrad ol any of bar pro-
party on aeeoonl o( one who waa an alien and a
atrAagAr. Bal Mr*. OMcaatle «Aa decided : and
when the aobeitor arrirad, abe dietAted ber viU
Accordiag to tbe a»»m»rmmU which 1 bed tAk«n
down. And which I hAre juat been aketebiaf ont
for your information. Ti»e will was duly signed.
And Att^ted by two of tbe domeatacA. ^ot k«f
After tbe completion of this AAfAaaony, tbe poor

] lady wa* a^ied with another fit ; and aba ezptr#d
in my arm*. I will not upeak Any more— at leAtt
not now— of tbe dietreas And Affliction which I
experience at tbe loa* of one who had beaa ao kind
a fnend to me. Mr. Singleton aays that it waa
aomrthing connected with tbe heart : but I hAV*
been too much bewildered Aitd AgitAted to liitan
to hit explanations.

" Pray ojme at once, dear Kllen !— And doubt-
lee* your friendt tbe NormAna will aMompany
you. I forgot to add tbat Mr. Kormaa and Ihia
attorney are named the exacutora andar tbe will,
and that it wAt the eAmaat wiah of the decwaaed
tbat ber funeral aboald be solemnii*d in the
plAineat, simpleat, and moat attoatentatioiu man*
ner.

" Tour erer loriog and gralefal friend,

"Mast OiXBTVoBrs."

Such were tbe contents of Mary'i letter ; and
infinitely Annoyed with myself as well At Afflicted
WA* 1 tUat I bad not opened it immediately upon
its arriral. We now all deliberAied in reapaei to
the eoarae tbAt was to be Adopted. A honey moo«
VAA to be Aatociated with a fuoeral risit ; for nador
existing circumttAocet no one hinted At tbe idea
of any nec<M4ity of aeperating tbe bridcfroom and
tbe bride. It was therefore (WolvAd that tbey
should proceed in one poatcbaiae to Dorer — while
I WAS to AccompAny Mr. And Mta XortnAn ia
aaolber. My father was to remeia in
LstlAtt were written to Mr. RichArds, i
for oar sadden depertore ; And I Also paaaad a
note to Mr. Oower, to tbe effect tbAt beiaf sad*
denly CAlled out of town by tbe death of a rsla-
tire, I WAS unAble to see him i bat tbAt as I was
At no loa* to diriite tbe motire for which be aoogbt
an interriev, I begged to inform him thAt Loird
Frederick Barenacliffe had tbAt dAy aeponaad Misa
Kormaa. I'hia AnnoaneemsBt I of eoorse eoaebad
ia lawfaags at detieatA aa poanbb; for I tend
tbat tb* blow woald prora a sev«ro oa* far Iha
beaotifal and iatereetiog FeticiA Gower.

Before the depArttue I bAd a few miaate
prirAte conTsrsAiioo with my father. Ha tsador*
look to delirer my note at Mr. Gower'a boaae: it
waa Ukewiae hia taak to rtatora to Lord Tj at dale
tbe snm far wbteb Lord Fk«derick bad gitea tb*
cbeqae apoa bis banker : And my father aIao pto-
misvd to keep a TigUaat wAlch apoa Mr. PArkt
till my return. llAriag mAde theaa ArrAogA-
meota, we embrAced and aeparated. MeAnwbile
Lord Frederick hnd written a letter to bia pArrnia^
Aaaoonrinf hia mAtnAga with Mam Kormaa, and
nol forgattiaf to maataon tbat aba waa tha baiiam
of certaia good propiviicA joai beqaaatbed by aa
aunt. Tbi* letter was deapatcbed by Mr. >'or>
mAn's footmAD, who was chArged bkewiae to de>
lirer witboat delay the eoa
been penned to Mr. Kicbard% tbe I

I eommanicated to Beda the fact of tb* ■■r>
riagA which bad jast taksa plate, aa wall as of
Mia. Oldeastle's daAtb; aad it waa tbraagb bar
tbat the doable iataUigeaoe waa coawyed to the
sarraata of the boasahold, Aad new Ja^iet, oa
receiriBg tbe eoagratolataaaa of bar own oaaid
and of Beda, beard baraalf far tbe 6t«l time ad.
diAsaed as -my lady" aad *y«ar tadyabq*:*
bat aoae of tbe aarraata n^pootod tbat tbara hai
been any pecotiar circataatancea attending ber

Ki.i.HN nciiov; oil, TIIK MHMOIUS Off A.W AOTRTtRS.

nas

union with tho young nobloman. 1 tnirt Beda
that the wan to nrrDinpnny mo : but .Tuliot did
not tiiUo h«r own inniil, for fonr lent iit. IMvcr
IIoiiso Iho iihigail inijjht loam tlio oiroiiinitiuioim
undi-r which hur inistrcHfi hnd formorly vinitod il, :
whoroAH on IUxNi'd dinrrotion wo nil know Hint wo
mifrht thoroii^'lily rely — niid »ho hnd (jivon mo md
mnny proofN of siiiooroHt dovotion thnt I. could not
bonr til lonvo tho yi)iin(» ffirl boliind ino.

Proviouii to our dopnrturo — nnd whilo nwrtiting
tho nrrival of tho poNtohniHos — I hnd i»n opportu-
nity of nponkiiig to Juliot alono for u few
tninulcn.

" It is a Bingulnr cniiioidonoo, tny donr friond,"
I snid, " that within tho Rnino hour whioh mndo
you II wifo, you nhouid hnvo it nnnouncod to you
tlint yf)u nro nn huiroHH, I hovo ovory hopo thnt
by nil oombininif oirounintnnoon Lord l<'roiloric'k
will 1)0 ronih'rod nn nitorod mnn. Ho will now
ti<i>l thnt to f/ou lin in indohtod for tho moann of
livinj; in oouitort nnd rospoctnhiUty ; nnd it in
fortunnto thnt ho nhouid bo moro or Iona dop(<ndont
upon you — thnt ho onnnot nmko nwny with your
property — ond thnt it in nil your own; for nupIi
n poRition will not bo rondorod humilintin||f liy
you, nnd will tlicroforo innpiro him with (rrntituilo
toward* yuursolf uh tho Buuroo of thono oumpolont
monnn."

" I nm doli/jhtod to hour you upoiilt thud, doaront
Kllcn," iinid Jjndy Krodoriok Riivonsolifro ; " for
1 vnliiu your opinion no hif^hly thnt to mo it in
frnu(;ht with all tho powor of prophooy. Oh,
yon! I bi<liovo nnd trunt thnt I'Viulorick in not
nltofrolhor bnd — that his romorHo in not a moro
triiniiiont ebullition — but thnt tho ohaiip;o which
bnn oTidcnlly tnkcn plnoo within him will ho por-
ninnont !"

" And you know, donront Juliot," I rojoinod, in
mild nnd gontlo tcrmH, " how muoli will now do-
pciid upon yournclf in koopinjj your huHhiind in
tho rip;lit j)iith. No nlluNJiin to hyj^ono uvonts — no
Word nor look tloit may crcr mako him iinn|;ino
thnt thoy hovor in your moinory "

"Oh, no! — not for worlds!" oxclaimnd Juliot.
"I undorHtnnd nil this, dear ICIIon, nnd J will try
what love, air«ction, ami kiridnoNS will produco
upon tho honrt of him who lins ({iron mn u pmud
nnmo nnd who has ntonitd for much of nil Ioh
formor misdocrls !"

Hodn nt this momont ontorod my ohnmhor,
whoro tho proooding brief oollnquy had takon
place,— to nnnounoo that thn ohaiHos woro in ma-
dinosH. Jiiliut and I aocordinKly ropnirnd to tho
drawinjj-rooni, whoro wo found Imrd l<'rodorick
ronvcrsing in a friendly maimer with Mr. and
Mrs. Norinnn — but yot with a onrl.ain Hiihdued
nnd I'onslraiiiod nir. lis eaunii I thoroujrlily
understood. It arose not from ])rido— neither did
it toko its origin from nny sonmnss at tho mar-
riage into whioh ho hnd been forced : but it was
tho eviduiico of a mind nut ui yet nltoi^other nt its
case in tho presence of tlio parents of her whom a
while bnck he had so cruelly wronged. This bear-
ing on bis part was still moro marknd towards
myself; for lie hnd tho guilty consciousness of tlie
bluck turpiludo that ho hnd nccomplishod towards
me, and which was of so moan nnd baso a cliurao-
ter,— involving, as it did, embezzlement nnd com-
plicity in u fraud of thu most immoral nnd profli-
gnte dosoriplion. But in proportion ns ho thus

displnysd hii oontritn fooling did 1 address him
with kindness nnd friendly onoourngoment ; for 1
eonsidered that this day constituted n new start-
ing ])iiiiit in Ills life, ami that ho hnd boon lifted
up as it were by tho hand of circuiiistnnci<s from
nn abysm into whicli ho had fallen, to be placed
upon level ground a);aiii, with tlio fairest ponsihio
clianoo of striking into a path whicli led to no
precipices nor pil falls. 'I'Dwards .luliet his de-
inennour was now niriuitionate, grateful, yot like-
wisii tineturi<(l with tho ovideni^es of reinnrso nnd
shame: but slio nnswereil his observations with so
nnicli lively frankncNS and conliiling familiarity
thnt I snw she was at once doing lior best to
olovnto him in his own ostinialioii and mnku him
feel thnt between the present nnd the past n gront
gulf hnd opened acrdss which there was no neod
to (ling revorting Inoks. All those trnits did I
notice during tlie few ininut(>s that wo were j)ar-
taking of some slight refreshment licl'oro wo de-
scended to take our seats in the e<|uipages.

I/ord l'\'eilerick hanili'd his bride inlii one : Mr.
and Mrs. Norman, lleda, nnd myself enti>red tho
other; nnd thoy <lrove away from Hunter Street.
Mr. nnd Mrs. Nurinaii hail now leisure to con-
verso with mo upon the eontents of MaryOlunt>
worth's letter ; for there had hitherto been no
time while wo woro yot nt tho house to mako
many comments upon it. Tho only point of it on
which we had previously spoken, was the fnot of
my relationship to Mrs. Oldcastlo,— which until
that dny had nmiained a secret. Hut L hnd ex<
plained to them how it existed and my reasons for
hitherto concealing it, — those reasons being that
it wns not my wish nt the timo to say aught that
would compel mo to nlludo to my father. Tho
render will comprehend that by the fact of that
rolationshi)) of mine to the deceased Mrs. t>ld-
castle, there was some little degree of ndiiiity be-
tween myself and the Normans; nnd this din-
covory endenrod mo, if pogsilile, nil tho moro com-
pletely to them.

Hut these woro suhjocta which, as I haro snid,
hnri boon briefly dismissed pri'tuou.i to our do-
parturo from Hunter Htroet; and thoy woro not
now renewed in lleda's presence. 'I'lio points ol'
Mary ( Jlentworth's li>tter which wo iliil nt present
discourse u|ion, were the poor lady's death and thO
boipieatliinenls she had made in her will, Mr.
nnd Mrs. Norman woro perfectly well satislled
that tho bulk of Mrs. Oldcastle's property sliould
have been left to their daughter, with only a
modornto legacy to themselves; and they were
ei(ually rojoieed that I hIioiiIiI have lieen so hniid-
soinely reinemhered in the will. Tlioutjli wo woro
careful how we spoke in Hcila's presence — for it
was not necessary to initiate lier into family
secrets — yet wo comprehondcd each other well
enough upon nlluding to Juliet's lioritiigo — nn
incident which wo regarded ns most providentially
fiirtiinnto, happening ns it did nt tho very momont
when she was es[)ousing a huNliand who could not
from his own means maiiitiiin her.

Wo stopped to dine at Oliatham : liut our Imit
wns not long in that town, for wo wont anxious to
get to our iliistinntion ns soon as poHitililo, fur poor
Mary (ilontworth's sake, as wu know that iho
would bo unxiously oxpucting us. Uuriiig this
temporary halt, however, I perceivod with plea-
■uro unil HUtisfn(!tion that Lurd nnd Ijndy Frede-

326

ELLEN PEECY; OE, THE ME1I0IE3 05 Alf ACTEESS.

rick Eavenscliffe were both ia good spirits, and corded sufficient for the information of my readers.
that the young nobleman had lost somewhat of I will therefore only say that having sat up for
that diffidence and restraint which he had exhi- some time conversing on the subject, we retired to
bited before we took our departure from Hunter our respective chambers. Early on the following
Street. The postchaises were ordered to be in morning the necessary arrangements were made
readiness half-anhour afttr our halt was made : for providing suitable mourning ; and in the
but scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed course of the day we visited the apartment in
before an equipage drew up to the door. | which the corpse lay. Tbis solemn duty being

" Why, this is before the time !" exclaimed Mr. i fulfilled, we were visited by the attorney who was
Iforman, consulting his watch. i Mr. Gorman's co-executor in the administration of

" It is not either of our vehicles," I said, ' the will ; and he explained to us the instructions
springing up from my seat and glancing through ^ which he had already given for the funeral obse-
the window. " It is a chaise for some other j quies. These were to take place ia the plainest,
traveller." simplest, and most unostentatious manner, accorJ-

Scarcely had I thus spoken, when the traveller ing to the request of the deceased. In this way
for whom that equipage had just come round out was the funeral therefore solemnized on the fifth
of the hotel yard, issued forth froai the hotel [> day after our arrival ; and when the ceremony was
itself; and I at once recognised his countenance. ' over, the will was read as a matter of form, though
It was that of the Count of Carboni. wo were all previously acquainted with its con-

He entered the vehicle, which immediately tents. The details were precisely as Mary Glent-
drove away in the same direction that we our- worth had sketched them in her letter ; and the
selves had to pursue. I made no observation attorney intimated his intention of repairing to
upon the circumstance as I returned to my seat at i London in a few days to co-operate with Mr.
the table ; for all the romantic occurrences which ' Norman in taking out the requisite letters of ad-
regardcd the Count of Carboni and his wife ministration and disposing of the property accord-
Beatrice were utterly unknown to my present com- j ing to the testament of the deceased,
panions. But I had now received a proof that the In the meantime Lord Frederick's behaviour
Italian nobleman had not fulfilled the intention | had been most kind and afifectionate towards
which upwards of six months back he had signified ! Juliet. She informed me that they proposed to
to his wife, to the effect that he should seek some ■ make River House their home, at least for the
seclusion, there to bury himself for the remainder ' present; for as her husband had received no letter
of his existence. I from his parents, he supposed that they were as

Our journey was resumed: but it was not until yet too indignant on account of the alliance he
nine o'clock in the evening that the first equipage I had formed, to bestow any notice on the epistle
reached River House. This was the one which i he had addressed to them ere leaving London.
bore Mr. and Mrs. Norman, myself, andBedajj '"Frederick desires seclusion," said Juliet ;" and
for it was purposely arranged that we should be i I am quite willing to second his inclinations in
about half-an-hour in advance of the other one, in this sense. The more we are alone together, the
order that I might have an opportunity of prepar- ! better we can cultivate that species of friendly
ing the domestics to find in Lady Frederick love and confiding intimacy which, under exist-
Ravenseliffe the same young lady who under the ing circumstances, must become a substitute for
name of Mrs. Hall had become a mother at that the mad reckless passion which he in the first in-
house. The Normans and myself were received stance conceived for me, and for the youthful
by Mary Glentwortb, who threw her arms arouild ! freshness of that fond adoration which I at the
my neck and welcomed me with mingled joy and j time cherished for him. Our present plan is
8orro*v. It was not much more than a month therefore to remain here in complete seclusion;

since I was last in that house : then the mistress
of it was in good health — but now she lay
stretched a corpse upon her bed. Mary doubtless
felt the solemn and awful lesson taught by the

and Frederick's solicitor in London will receive
immediate instructions to look thoroughly into
the state of his afi'airs."

I highly approved of the resolve to which Lord

change; and she gave way to her feelings. I also and Lady Frederick had come ; and we next spoke
wept : but when we had regained our self- of Mary Grlentworth. I told Juliet that 1 iu-
possession, I presented her to the Normans. I ; tended to ask Mr. and Mrs. Norman to allow
then sought an interview with the deceased Mrs. ! Mary to find a home beneath their roof ; and iu-
Oldcastle's lady's-maid, who, as well as the livery- ' deed I had already ascertained from Miss Grlent-
servant, were already aware that the Mrs. Hall i worth that nothing would more contribute to her
who had sojourned at the house, was in reality • happiness than to live with me. As the reader
Juliet Norman ; for those domestics had accom- may suppose, I had no difficulty in obtaining the
panied their late mistress on her visit to London. ' consent of Mr. and Mrs. Norman to this plan ;
I said all that was sufficient; to the lady's-maid : ! for the worthy couple were not merely ever ready
she promised to go and speak to the other servants | and willing to yield to my slightest wishes, but
upon the subject ; and she assured me that every , they had likewise conceived a great liking for
reliance might be placed upon their discretion, i the frank-hearted and ingenuous Mary Glent-
Shortly afterwards the other equipage arrived : worth.

Lord and Lady Frederick Eavensohfi'e alighted; It was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Norman,
and when the latter had embraced Mary Glent- Mary, and myself — with Beda of course — should
worth, her husband was duly introduced to our ; return to London on the third day after the fune-
young friend. j ral. On the day previous to our departure, Mary

Mary gave us all the particulars attending Mrs. Glentworth and I walked forth alone together ;
Oldcastle's death, but her letter had already re- and she said to me, " Let us pass by the cottage.

ELLEN PEECT J OE, THE IIEMOIES OF AN ACXEESS.

327

Iknow not Low soon I may be in this neighbour-
hood again ; and it would afford me a melancholy
satisfaction to havo a last look at tho house where
80 many years of my life were spent, and where
lay poor mother was taken from me for ever i"

I at once agreed to accempany Mary in that
direction J and thither wo accordingly proceeded
through the fields.

" The cottage has remained shut up ever since
the sad catastrophe," continued Mary, wiping
away the tears from her eyes ; " or at least it
vfas every time I have seen it — but, as you are
aware, this is the first occasion on which I have
been out since Mrs. Oldcastle's death."

We were soon in the close vicinage of the pic-
turesque little abode: hut now Mary started, sud-
denly exclaiming, " I do believe it is again occu-
pied ! Look ! there is smoke ascending from one
of the chimneys 1"

And it was so. A few more instants and we
came in view of the front of the house : the
shutters were open — and there was every indica-
tion of the cottage being tenanted once more. I
looked at the summer-house ia which I had first
seen Mary Glentworth occupied with her needle,
three month's back ; and I could not help think-
ing how many varied, strange, and romantic inci-
dents had occurred during the interval ! — how
strong a friendship had in that short space sprung
into existence between myself and that amiable
girl ! I glanced at the window of the chamber in
which her mother had breathed her last : I
thought of the discovery I had made of how the
Duke of Ardleigh was Mary's father, and of the
strange scene that had taken place in that cottage
with the Duchess. I had some curiosity to know
who was the present tenant of the picturesque
abode — who would sit in the summer-house where
I had first formed Mary's acquaintance — and who
might sleep in the chamber where her mother had
fallen into tho eternal slumber of death. And I
saw that Mary herself experienced a melancholy
curiosity to ascertain the same point : but we be-
held no one moving about the premises — and we
could not, without the appearance of rudeness, lin-
ger too long with our eyes fixed upon the cottage.

We ^rsued our walk in the direction of Dover ;
and suddenly an ejaculation burst from Mary's
lips as we beheld a labouring man approaching,
with a basket slung to a rake carried over his
shoulder. This was the gardener who used to
tend the littlo garden during Mrs. Glentworth's
lifetime. He was pleased to see Miss Glentworth :
but he did not seem to remember me.

" So I perceive that the cottage is let ?" said
Mary. " Do you still attend to the garden ?"

" Ob, yes. Miss," was the reply ; " though I
don't think that the gentleman who has taken the
house will care much about fruits or flowers — for
he seems a strange being."

" What is his name ?" asked Mary.

" Some foreign name," replied the gardener ;
"but I don't think I should know it if I heard it.
He speaks to nobody — and wanders about all day
long. I am sure he is not right ia his brain.
They say he is an Italian — and ho has a dark com-
plexion— he is tall "

" When did he arrive ?" I inquired, somewhat
hastily; for a slight suspicion suddenly flashed to
my mind.

" Wheh was it r" said tho gardener, scratchinw
his head as he thus mused. " Why, it must have
been the evening after tho day poor Mrs. Old-
castle died ; and I recollect it because it was on
the evening she did die I was told the cottage had
been let to a gentleman who was coming to tako
possession of it— that he had sent to order tho
agent at Dover to find the necessary servants—
and that therefore I was to go and take care of
the garden as usual. He came in a postchaise all
alone : but he seems to have plenty of money
Ah! there he is!" suddenly ejaculated the gar-
doner, pointing in a particular direction : " there
he goes, striking right across yon field towards tho
river !"

A single glance convinced me that my suspicion
was correct; it was none other than the Count
of Carboni, Beatrice's remorse-stricken husband,
who had become the tenant of a cottage which
was so well known to me. I did not however drop
a syllable nor by a look indicate that I recognised
him; and after a little further conversation with
the gardener, Mary and I continued our way.

On the following day the departure from Eivcr
House took place. Mr. and 3£rs. Norman were
much aflfected on separating from Juliet : I was
likewise distressed to part from so dear and
esteemed a friend : but we were consoled by the
hope and belief that her destiny might now be a
happy one. While she and Mary were embrac-
ing. Lord Frederick seized tho opportunity to
whisper a few words to the Normans and myself,
assuring us that he should never be unmindful of
the pledges he had given ; and we separated. Mr.
and Mrs. Norman, Mary Glentworth, myself, and
Beda took our places in the postchaise that was
in readiness for us ; and Eiver House— now the
abode of Lord and Lady Frederick Kavenscliffe —
was EOOQ left far behind.

CHAPTER LVII.

MB. GOWEE.

It waa now no longer necessary that I should
meet my father in a stealthy manner. To the
Normans and to Mary Glentworth it was now
known that I had a father living, and that he had
been unfortunate : but Mr. and Mr?. Norman had
freely forgiven him for his coftiplicity under the
name of Croft in the foul wrong that had been
done to their daughter upwards of a twelvemonth
back ; and as ho was passing by the name of
Forsyth, there was no reason why he should not
occasionally call upon me at tho house in Hunter
Street, — the servants being suffered to believe that
ho was some relative or old friend.

Accordingly, on the day after our arrival at
home, I communicated with my father at a lodg-
ing which he was temporarily occupying ; and by
the hour of noon he was with mo. After soaie
littlo conversation respecting recent affairs at
lliver House, I inquired how matters now stood
in reference to Mr. Parks ?

'•' The appointment is for to-morrow afternoon
at three o'clock," replied my father. " I saw Mr.
Parks the other day, and informed him that iu

328

ELLEN FESCV} OB. THB MEMOCBS 07 AN ACXfiESS.

coDsequence of the death of a relative you were
unavoidably absent from town. He assured me
that be should be fully prepared against your re-
turn for the performance of that act of justice
which is due to you. He and I then entered into
eome little calculations. Your grandfather be-
queathed to you the sum of thirty thousand
pounds ; and be has been dead seven years.
Dering those seven years your fortune has re-
mained alienated from you : it was first used by
the infamous Mrs. Parks— and then, at her de-
cease, by her not less iniquitous son. Mr. Parks
offered at our last interview to add the accumula-
tions of interest to the gross amount. I did not
choose to reject on your behalf the proposition ;
because I reflected that if be were sincere in bis
promises of reimbursing anything at all, he would
disgorge bis plunder to the utmost extent, espe-
cially as it was himself who started the subject of
interest— or rather revived it, I should say — for I
believe that it was originally mentioned by myself
on the occasion when you and I called together at
his house."

" Yes — I remember that it was so," I observed.

" Mr. Parks proposes," continued my father,
" to reckon the interest at three per cent. ; and I
acceded to the terms. Now, the interest of the
gross sum for a year, at three per cent., is 9002. :
multiply this by 7, that being the number of
years during which the property has been kept
from you ; and we get an amount of 6,3O0Z. The
entire total which Mr. Parks has to pay is there-
fore 36,300?."

" But do you really think, my dear father," I
inquired, my heart beating suspensefuUy, for the
sum was a magnificent one, — " do you really think
that Mr. Parka purposes to act honourably at
length ?"

" I have already told you, my dear girl," re-
sponded my sire, " that we must patiently await
the issue — not with a hope too sanguine, because
that would only render disappointment all the
more bitter — nor yet with complete mistrust, be-
cause there is nothing, so far as I can j udge, in
the lawyer's conduct, to warrant such a sentiment.
I have been watching him during your absence : I
have seen nothing suspicious in bis proceedings :
they appear to me to have been precisely those
which a professional man in large practice might
be supposed to pursue. But to-morrow at three
o'clock we shall know the result !"

There was a brief pause, during which I could
not help thinking to myself that I should be very
agreeably surprised if Mr. Parks did indeed fulfil
his pledge and pay such an immense sum. But
then, on the other hand, he was reputed to be very
rich j and it might better suit bis purpose to part
with even half his fortune than to incur all the
risks of exposure, arrest, trial, and condemnation,
for the fraud which he had perpetrated.

" You received my letter, Ellen," said my
father, " in which 1 hastily penned you a couple
of lines, to the effect that Lord Frederick Bavens-
cliffe'a cheque had been duly honoured, and that I
had placed the amount in the hands of the Mar-
quis of Tynedale ?"

" Yes — I received the note ; and I showed it to
Lord Frederick. What did you say to the Mar-
quis ?" I inquired.

" 1 followed the instructions which you gave

me ere you left London," replied my father. " I
called upon his lordship, and informed him that I
was an agent employed by you to recover as much
as I possibly could of the proceeds of the cheque
from Melissa Harrison's accomplice. I added that
the sum I then brought, in addition to the smaller
amount which he had previously received, was all
that he could hope to regain. He said very
quietly that he knew be must pay for his folly;
and then he asked me the name of Melissa's ac-
complice in the fraud. That name I positively
refused to give up : but I assured him that the in-
dividual bad repented of his iniquity and was no
longer in any way associated with Melisssa Har-
rison. I then perceived a sudden gleam of satis-
faction appear upon the countenance of the Mar-
quis : but without any further comment, I coldly
took my leave. That satisfied look which tny
words had occasioned him, was quickly explained ;
for at the very instant I was issuing from the
house, an elegant carriage drove up to the door—
and Melissa Harrison, splendidly apparelled, at
once alighted."

" Ah ! I suspected that this would be the case,"
I said, shocked at the new instance of Melissa's
profligacy, although I was not unprepared to hear
of it. " The unhappy girl ! she has now launched
herself completely on the ocean of immorality and
wickedness — and she will come to a bad end !"

My father took bis leave of me j and I pre -
pared to go out and pay a few visits. I could not
on this occasion take Mary Gleutworth with me,
inasmuch as the calls I had to make involved mat-
ters of a private character. First of all I repaired
to the Marquis of Campanella's mansion, where I
informed Beatrice of the discovery which I had
made in respect to her husband— namely, that he
had secluded himself in the little cottage near
Dover. I then called upon Lady Cecilia Urban
at Enightsbridge. She was already acquainted
with Lord Frederick Kavenscliffe's marriage with
Juliet Norman, — a paragraph to that effect having
gone the round of the newspapers.

" I am now no longer at a loss," said Lidy
Cecilia, " to conjecture who it was that Lord Fre-
derick so grossly imposed upon by means of a
mock marriage, as you informed ma at the mas-
querade at Ardleigb House. You said then it was
a friend of your's — Juliet has been your friend— ^
and this strange marriage taking place so sud-
denly "

" Yes, my dear Lady Cecilia," I interjected, " I
knew very well that when you came to put all
circumstances together, you could scarcely fail to
arrive at the right conclusion. But I wilt not in-
sult you by asking if you have kept the secret
which you have thus fathomed ?"

"Oh, I would not for worlds betray it!" ex«
claimed the young lady. " When some time back
you gave me a partial insight into it, it was for
a purpose most important to myself; and I can
never be ungrateful. We have lately bad more
than one strange marriage in the fashionable
world," continued Lady Cecilia, resuming a gay
conversational tone. "There was that of Captain

St. Clair with the handsome gipsy Ah ! have

you seen this morning's paper ?" she suddenly ex-
claiuied.

"I had not time to do more than just glance
hastily over it," I rejoined. " Does it contain

anything relating to the present objects of our
discourse ?"

" Ob, then I perceive that you have indeed
sotoething to learn !" cried Lady Cecilia. " Captain
St. Clair has been courted by the Ministry — and
his wife has made her appearance at two or three
of the soirees given at the houses of the principal
Cabinet Officials. It is no wonder that overtures
should have been made by a tottering Cabinet to a
man of St. Clair's splendid genius : the great won-
der is that he should have accepted those over-
tures— that he should have abandoned the position
of an independent Member — and that he should
have identified himself with a party. But so it
is! — he is now a Cabinet Minister — a member of
the Privy Council — and he must be spoken of as
the Right Honourable Edwin St. Clair !"

" A Cabinet Minister ?" I exclaimed in astonish-
ment ; for I recollected how the two wily politi-
cians whom a short time back I had heard con-
No. 42.— Ellen Peect.

versing in the Park, had determined upon offer-
ing him some minor position in the Government.

" Yea — he ia a Cabinet Minister," proceeded
Lady Cecilia Urban ; " and the newspaper-para-
graph says that overtures of a character less
flattering to his talents and to his ambition were
first made — but he rejected them. It was thea
deemed of such importance to secure his accession
to the Government, that fresh negotiations were
opened— and he was left almost the dictator of his
own terms. The result is now known to you —
and the obscure gipsy has become the wife of a
Cabinet Minister !"

I felt shocked at the idea that the great desti-
nies of this country should be in any way asso-
ciated with or influenced by a man of St. Clair's
character : but I gave not audible expression to
my thoughts — indeed I veiled what was passing
in my mind. I shortly afterwards took my leave,
and proceeded to Stratton Street,

330

ELLEN PEECY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTKESS.

I should here mention that on my return to
London from Dover, I had found at Hunter Street
a note from Mr. Gower, in answer to the one I
had written previous to my departure. In that
note Mr. Gower politely acknowledged tho recep-
tion of mine, and intimated that he should feel
obliged if I would favour him with a call on my
return to the metropolis. It was in consequence
of this request that I now took my way to Strattoa
Street.

Mr. Gower was at home ; and immediately, on
giving my name, I was conducted up to the
handsomely furnished drawing-room where he
was prepared to receive me. He was a tall,
stout, elderly gentleman — with a shining bald
head and a florid complexion ; and though his
manners were somewhat deficient in the gloss of
fashionable politeness, yet they were sufficiently
easy and courteous. He had lived nearly all his
life in the country, as I presently learnt in the
course of conversation — and had merely come to
sojourn for a little yphile in London in order that
his daughter F*liel» might, as it is called, "be
brought out."

Having requested laae to be seated, Mr. Gower
said, " 1 have heard enough of your character.
Miss Trafford, to be convinced that in address-
ing you on a most delicate subject "

" lUfO apology is requisite !" I hastily exclaimed :
"and rest assured, sir, that whatsoever may be
said to me ia confidence shall be religiously re-
spected."

" You fce before ^ou, Miss Trafford, a inost
unhappy man," cantinued Mr. Gower. " Fejicia,
my daughter^whom you beheld »t the tUeatre-»-
is an only child ; and she u tfiptherless. A happy
life was it that she led i» the country : gay and
cheerful was her disposition ! A happy existence
likewise wag it which I led in my native place—
from which I had very aeldooa been absent sinoe I
inherited the family estates. But London aunts
and fashionable cousins caine to visit Felicia j they
put it into her head that she ought to have a year
or two in the metropolis— and I was overwhelmed
with the same reasoning. We accordingly came
to London ; and I took this house ready furnished
for a twelvemonth. In the new sphere into whieh
Felicia was thus thrown, she encountered one
whose name I can scarcely mention with patience
—while in my heart I execrate it, I allude to
Lord Frederick Bavenscliflfe."

There was a pause, during which Mr. Gower
reflected mournfully ; and at length he continued
in the following manner :—

" Lord Frederick paid his attentions to my
daughter. 1 knew that he was but a junior scion
of the noble house to which he belongs, and that
his pecuniary position and prospects were not very
brilliant. But then he possessed a title ! Ah,
Miss Trafford ! we dwellers in the country are too
apt to be dazzled by the lustre of patrician rank
— we have our folly and our pride, our foolish am-
bition and our lofty aspirations. I may in truth
tell you that I am a rich man ; and I reasoned
that if Lord Frederick gave my daughter patri-
cian rank, while I furnished an ample dower, the
equivalents would bo fair enough. So I suHered
him to pursue his addresses ; and Felicia — Fe-
licia," repeoted Mr. Gower, his lips quivering with
emotion, " learnt to love him."

There was another brief pause, during which
Mr. Gower subdued his rising emotions ; and he
went on to say " It often happens in the world that
those who are most interested in learning parti-
cular things, are the very last whose ears they
reach, notwithstanding that the things themselves
may be the common subject of rumour. So it was
with me in this case. No friendly and well-
meaning tongue whispered a syllable to warn me
against that young nobleman: I suspected not
that he was extravagant and dissipated, or over-
whelmed with debts. He entirely won my confi-
dence ; and he found himself a welcome guest at
my house. The very day before that on which ho
accompanied my daughter and her young friends
to the theatre, he proposed for Felicia's hand, and
was accepted. Yes— I accepted him without the
slightest hesitation as my intended son-in-law !
Then came the scene at the theatre, A note
which he received, fluttered into my daughter's
lap; and she, thinking it was intended for her
perusal, hastened to read it. Jt ooutaiped fright-
ful words of warning — mentioning also the Chris-
tian name of ^llen as that of soiue one who had
discovered everything and was harbouring mischief
against him ! My poor Felicia fainted : but upon
being taken into the corridor, she quickly revived
with the fresh air. Then Lord Frederick endea-
voured to persuade her that the anonyuaous billet
was a vile fabrication by the hand of some secret
enemy. Felicia was inclined to beUeve the repre-
sentation^—and all the more so, because she felt it
to be so necessary to her happiges^— and because
love itself is confidence ! But quickly was the
delusion euceeeded by the renewal of the moat
harrowing suspicions that there was something
deeply wrong in respect to Lord Frederick Baveus-
clififu. For a geutleman presented hicnself in the

corridor— then a lady advanced Yet why should

I tell you, all this portion of the proceedings?— for
that lady was yourself!"

Again Mr. Gower paused : but he speedily re«
sumed his address in the following manner: —

" My daughter returned home in an anguished
state of mind— filled with terrible misgivings in
respect to him whose suit she had accepted. The
piention of the name of Ellen in the anonymous
billet, followed by your appearance in the corridor,
and all that there took place, determined me to
write a note, requesting an interview with you ;
for I was resolved to fathom the whole mystery— ^
and I was quite convinced from all I have heard
of your character, that you would deal frankly
with me. Your reply brought the intelligence
that Lord Frederick fiavensclifFe had just es-
poused your friend Miss ]!forman ! Conceive,
Miss Trafford, the amount of mingled indignation
and aflliotion which seized upon me "

" Ob, sir !" I exclaimed, moved to tears by the
spectacle of that deep emotion which Felicia's
father could no longer subdue nor conceal, — " I
felt more than I can express on account of your
daughter !— believe me that I did !"'

" I am sure of it !" said Mr, Gower, seizing my
hand and wringing it.

" But may I hope," I asked, "that tho blow haa
not been so very terrible "

" Yes— it has been terrible !" rejoined Mr.
Gower. "When I first broke tho intelligence to
my daughter— alaf, poor Felicia ! my only child,

'EZZT.y TEPvCT; OH, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS.

331

whose lmppines3 and welfare are dearer to me than
aught in the whole world beside "

"Yea — they must be!" I murmured, profoundly
affected : and I wiped the t?ars from my eyes.

" When I first broke the intellifjenee," pro-
ceeded Mr, Gowcr " such were the efTects that I
feared for my poor child's life. She sorrowed and
wept in a way that never before had I seen a
human being sorrow or weep ! Her anjruish was
terrible. Mild, docile, and amiable though she be,
she gave way to the wildest paroxy?m3, in which
she bitterly I'eproached herself for having come to
London — me for having brought her — and her
relations for having recommended the step. Then,
exhausted with the volcanic power of her mind's
sgony, she threw herself into my arras, weeping as
if her heart would break, and piteously imploring
my pardon for all that she had said. Oh ! it was
a sad scone. Miss Trafford !— the saddest that I
have ever known since I knelt by the bedside of
my dying wife some years back, and promised that
I would always continue a fond and loving father
to that dear child of our's!"

" And now, sir," I said, in a voice tremulous
with emotion — " now that nearly ten days have
elapsed since the sad catastrophe which so affected
your daughter — how fares it with her ?"

" She has been ill — very ill," replied Mr. Gower:
" but thank heaven, she is better ! Yet she still
feels deeply — and will long continue to feel the
foul wrong that she has sustained. My God ! if a
blight v/ere cast upon that young life "

"No, no— fear it not I" I exclaimed, anxious to
say anything that I could to console the afflicted
father. " She is young — youth itself is both
strength and hope "

" Ah ! Miss Trafford," ejaculated Mr. Gower,
"it is kind — most kind of you to address me thus
and to give me these assurances ! But consider
my poor child's position — and think whether she
have not sufficienc to rend her heart. Not merely
have her pure affections sustained a shock— not
merely has all their first freshness been withered
OS flowers by an east wind, or been seared as the i
green tree by lightning— but her pride is wounded ; j
and to descend to common parlance — without;
meaning anything offensive to yourself as the j
friend of her successful rival — she has been jilted
for the sake of a ballet-dancer ! Her love has been
scorned as it were at the very last moment — her '
feelings have been trifled with — she has been
placed in a position most ridiculous and humili. j
ating ; and it is no wonder that she should declare
she can never again lift up her head amongst her I
friends. Indeed, so soon as she can bear the jour- I
ney, it is our purpose to flee from London — a place ■
now hateful to us ! And before we take our de- I
parture, I would fain learn from your lips how it ]
happened that Lord Frederick Ilavenscliffe could
have so suddenly sacrificed my daughter to Miss
Norman the dancer? There are moments when
Felicia herself has thought that she was not beau-
tiful enough, or sufliciently accomplished, polished,
and elegant, to rivet the regard of the young no- ,
blemau ; and these ideas she occasionally enter- '
tains, notwithstanding that she thereby inflicts an
additional wound on her own pride by the suppo-
sition that in all those attractions she was excelled
by her rival."

" It is natural, sir," I answered, " that you

should seek to penetrate all the circumstances con-
nected with a catastrophe so deplorable for your-
self and your amiable daughter. But I regret my
inability to give you explanations as fully as per-
haps you have a right to require them, if not at
my hands, at least at the hands of Lord Frederick
Ravenscliffe. Yet something of the truth must I
reveal to you. A little while back Lord Frederick
Eavenseliffo pledged himself in the most solemn
and sacred manner to my friend Juliet ; and he
then abruptly broke off everything. This was up-
wards of a year back, and therefore long before he
became acquainted with your daughter. Time
passed on : the other day there was a certain
money matter in which Lord Frederick became
seriously involved, and which more or loss regarded
myself. Now, I will confess, Mr. Gower, that I
made use of the hold which this circumstance gave
me over Lord Frederick, to compel him to fulfil to
my friend Juliet those solemn and sacred vows— ^
those pledges, oaths, and protestations which he
had given to her long before he ever saw your
daughter. I have now told you as much aa I can
reveal upon all these most delicate points ; and
confident that I am speaking to an honourable
man, it is under the seal of secrecy that I am
giving you these details. The injunction extends
not however so far as to prevent you from making
whatsoever statement you may think fit to Miss
Gower — though s7is also must regard it as purely
confidential."

" I thank you, Miss Trafford, for these explann-
tiong," responded Mr. Gower: "and I must rest
satisfied with them. I do not— I cannot blame
you for having attended to the interests of your
friend, although my own child's happiness has
been sacrificed as the result !"

" Believe me, Mr. Gower," I exclaimed, " that
even if Lord Frederick had not fulfilled his vows
to my friend Juliet, I should have revealed every-
thing to you, and the result would have still been
the same ; for you assuredly would not have in
that case bestowed your daughter upon the young
nobleman ?"

" Oh, no ! assuredly cot !" exclaimed Mr.
Gower. " And now, Miss Trafford, will you sea
my daughter ? She has heard so much of your
private character "

" "While the sense of aflliction is so fresh in hep
mind," I said, " my presence will perhaps only
tend to reopen the wound all the more poignantly
and acutely. On some future occasion, sir, I
shall be happy to make Miss Go-^er's acquaint-
ance ; and 1 hope that I shall then find that she
has forgotten the occurrences which have for the
present made so deep an impression upon her."

Mr. Gower shook his head mournfully j and
after a little more conversation I took my leave of
him.

The reader may easily suppose that one of
the principal subjects now uppermost in my mind,
was the appointment which stood with Mr. Parks
for the morrow. Within a few hours it was pos-
sible that I might become exceedingly rich — the
possessor of the fortune bequeathed to me by my
grandfather, and which was therefore legitimately
my own. But I scarcely dared speculate on the
probability that Mr. Parks would fulfil his en-
gagement ;— though on the other hand there were
many reasons, as I have already said, which might

332

KLLEN PERCY ; OE, THE MEilOIES 03? AX ACTKESS.

weigh with him and induce hiin to behave honour-
ably. It was evident that his career had reached
a crisis to which he himself must give the tu.'n ;
for after the manner in which the matter had been
put to him by my father, he could only contem-
plate the two alternatives of payment or flight.

I must candidly confess that the thought of
what the morrow might bring forth kept me
awake for a considerable portion of the night;
and when I arose in the morning, it was with a
fluttering and suspenseful sensation at the heart
which I could not possibly control. I was seated
in my chamber, while Beda was combing out my
Lair, when Mary Glentworth, who was already up
and dressed, made her appearance. This amiable
girl was most devotedly attached to me : she loved
me as if 1 were a sister — but an elder sister to
whose opinion she would in all things defer. She
now came to consult me upon a particular subject;
and not suspecting that there was any reason why
it should not be discussed in the presence of Beda,
she at once said, " I have been thinking, my dear
Ellen, that it is my duty to call with the least
possible delay upon my uncle Mr, G-lentworth. He
lives in London, you know "

"You can retire, Beda, now," I said : "I can
perform the remainder of my toilet without your
assistance."

The young girl at once glided from the room ;
and when she was gone, I said to Mary, " But
you do not know the address of Mr. Glent-
worth ?"

" True !" she exclaimed : "but surely it can be
found by inquiry ? I know there are Guides to
the residences of the gentry in this huge metro-
polls ; and I am sure that my uncle must be a
gentleman — he is my poor fiber's brother, you
know — and he is evidently wefl off, as he allows
me two hundred and fifty pounds a year."

" Do you not think, Mary," I said, considerably
embarrassed how to act in the present case, "that
your uncle may have reasons for desiring that you
should not call upon him?"

" What possible reason could he have ?" ex-
claimed Miss Glentworth in astonishment.

'•■ It only seemed to me that he used to visit the
cottage at River under circumstances of privacy,"
I calmly observed.

" True ! it never struck me before !'' ejaculated
Mary Glentworth : and she seemed to ba some-
what troubled and perplexed by the thought.

I feared that I had said too much, and I has-
tened to observe, " Eelatives, you know, have
sometimes peculiar reasons for their modes of ac-
tion. Look at the case of Mrs. Oldcastle !— so
long keeping herself estranged from the Nor-
mans, and then leaving them — or at least to Juliet
— the bulk of her property at last ! I think,
Mary, that it is always better for us to take sug-
gestions from the conduct of our relatives with
regard to the conduct which we ourselves should
observe towards them."

" It may be so, Ellen," replied Mary : " but
look how I am situated towards this uncle of
mine ! He is the only relative whom I know on
the face of the earth ; and he has a right to be
acquainted with my proceedings. He knew that I
obtained a home at Eiver House : but now that
death has snatched away the excellent lady who
gave me that asvlum, am I not bound to inform

my uncle where I have found another happy

home ? He is my natural guardian Besides,"

ejaculated Miss Glentworth, " how will he now
know where he is to transmit me my income as
it becomes due ?"

'■' Ah, I forgot that !" I said, struck by the ob-
servation : and becoming more and more embar-
rassed how to treat the subject, I affected to be
busy at my drawers in selecting articles for my
toilet.

"Therefore you see," continued Miss Glent-
worth, ingenuously, " it is absolutely requisite
for more reasons than one that I should endea-
vour to find out my uncle and communicate with
him."

" "Will you leave it to me, dear Mary," I said,
'■'to think over the subject— and if necessary, to
make the proper inquiries? There is no hurry
for a few days."

" Ellen, do explain yourself!" cried Mary, ad-
vancing towards me and taking my hand, while
she gaz9d up into my countenance in an appeal-
ing manner. " It seems to me as if there were
some mystery which I cannot fathom — as if you

knew something which I do not 1 can scarcely

explain myself— but new ideas are agitating in
my brain "

I reflected for a few moments; I was pained
and distressed by the turn which the coaversa*
tion had taken. I did not wish to reveal the
mystery of Mary's birth; and yet I did not see
how it was possible to hide it much longer.

" Will you do me the favour I have asked ?" I
at length said: "will you be patient for a few
days ?"

"Now I am more than ever convinced," ex-
claimed Mary, " that you have something to re-
veal— that there are circumstances known to you,
but hitherto undreamt of by me ! Yet I will not
press you farther, Ellen. I love you— I know
that you are my friend — and I am convinced that
in whatsoever you may do, you are acting for the
best. I will not," she added, in a mild and affec-
tionately docile manner, "renew the subject until
you yourself may think fit to revive it."

So soon as I was again alone, after breakfast, I
seriously reflected on the discourse which had
taken place between myself and Mary Glent-
worth. When I had first proposed that the Nor-
mans' house should henceforth be her home, my
mind was under the influence of the feelings pro-
duced by Mrs. Oldcastle's death, and I had not
leisure to reflect on whatsoever iuconveniences
might arise from the circumstance of bringing
Mary to London. Besides, how was it possible tc
avoid offering a home to the amiable girl who had
no home elsewhere to fly to ? Nevertheless, a
serious embarrassment was now arising. It would
be impossible to persuade Miss Glentworth foi
any lengthened period that she must not seek out
her supposed uncle : and then too, in the chapter
of accidents, it was inevitable that she must sooner
or later meet the Duke of Ardleigh, to whom she
would naturally present herself, no matter who
might be with him at th"e time. But how could I
tell Mary the whole truth ? — how with a single
word destroy the sublime faith which she enter-
tained in the purity and virtue of her deceased
mother's character ?— how could I bring myself
to make the announcement which should shock

ELLEK PEECy; OE, THE 1IE1I0IE3 OF AK ACTEES3.

3.33

the pure and susceptible soul of my yuungr friead
with the knowledge that she was illegitimate P
My embarrassment was indeed most cruel : but as
I had succeeded in stifling the subject for a few
days, I resolved in the meantime to communicate
with the Duke of Ardleigh and then act according
to circumstances.

The hour for the appointment with Mr. Parks
drew nigh : and at twenty minutes to three o'clock
my father arrived in Hunter Street to conduct mo
to the lawyer's residence.

CHAPTER LVIII.

THE APPOINTMENT.

We proceeded in a cab to the West End Square
in which Mr. Parks dwelt ; and during the drive
thither, my father informed me that everything
appeared to go well — for he knew that the lawyer
had not fled from London. Indeed my father had
seen him alight from bis chaise and enter his
house about an hour previously. It was there-
fore with a fluttering heart that I found myself
being borne along to an appointment the results
of which might prove of so important a character.

We alighted from the cab as it stopped at the
door of Mr. Parks' residence ; and when the foot-
man in the gorgeous livery appeared in answer to
our summons, I awaited with the aeutest suspense
for the reply that would be given' to the question
put by my father — "Is Mr. Parks at home?"

" Yes," was the response. " Be pleased to walk
in."

My father flung upon me a look full of joyous
congratulation on what he conceived to be a most
favourable augury ; and such likewise was the in-
terpretation that I myself put upon the fact of the
lawyer's readiness to receive us. The footman con-
ducted us up into the drawing-room, where we re-
mained alone together for a few minutes — at the
expiration of which the door opened and Mrs.
Parks made her appearance. 1 have already de-
scribed her as a little mean-looking woman, with
a vixenish expression of countenance, but who
nevertheless on occasions endeavoured to render
herself as amiable as possible. She was fashion-
ably dressed : but her features had a mournful ex-
pression that now dominated as it were over their
malignity : her step was slow — her looks down-
cast—her manner hesitating and timid. She
bowed to my father, with whom she was previ-
ously acquainted ; and then advancing towards
me, she said, " Ellen, is this to be a day of recon-
ciliation and forgiveness ?"

" It all depends, madam," I answered, some-
what coldly and reservedly, " upon the proceed-
ings which your husband may presently be pre-
pared to adopt. I have sustained more than one
species of injury at your hands : but heaven knows
that I am not vindictive !— and if within the hour
that is passing there be really an atonement made,
I pledge myself that these lips of mine shall pro-
nounce the fullest forgiveness for all the past I"

"You cannot speak more fairly — you cannot
speak more kindly !" responded Mrs. Parks with
an eagerness as if of gratitude. "Yes! — a com-
plete atonement \.ill be made— mv husband is

prepared to do you that act of justice which ac-
cording to your promise is to win your pardon for
the past ! But oven though it be nothing more
nor less than an act of justice, Ellen— and though
you have the right to play the part of a punisher
and an avenger— yet, Oh ! be merciful, if not for
the sake of my husband and myself, at least for
that of our children who are ignorant of their
parents' misdeeds !"

" Where reparation is made for a wrong that
has been done, punishment may be dispensed
with ; and as for revenge, Mrs. Parks," I ex-
claimed, " I am incapable of it \"

" Admirable girl !" she cried, seizing my hand
and wringing it with a force which appeared to
be full of fervour : " how distressed and ashamed
I am to think how deeply we have wronged you !"
" You are contrite, Mrs. Parks," I said, for a
few moments abandoning my hand to her pres-
sure,— "you are contrite, and that is sufficient!"

" Oh, yes — I am contrite !" she exclaimed.
" And perhaps, if my advice had prevailed at the
time, the iniquity never would have been accom-
plished! But I was overruled — my mother-in-
law was resolute — my husband was unfortunately

completely under her influence "

"Ah, Mrs. Parks!" I exclaimed, now commis-
serating the woman as I beheld the tears trickle
from her eyes ; " if it were indeed against your
inclination that you became an accomplice in the
fraud which for seven years has deprived me of
the fortune that was justly mine, it will be with
all the greater sincerity that I can forgive you !"

"Your kindness overwhelms me, Ellen," she
said, applying her kerchief to her eyes ; " and if
I dared ask you a favour, it is that you will con-
sent to settle this deplorable afiair in a manner
which shall avert from my family the possibility of
a stigma ever falling upon it."

"Eest assured," I answered, "that it would
afflict me infinitely if your innocent children were
to incur the risk of being ever branded on account
of the misdeeds of their parents. No I — that
would be a vengeance— and I have already assured
you that I seek none !"

" Nor I," said my father, who had hitherto re-
mained a silent witness of the scene betwixt Mrs.
Parks and myself. " But in what sense, madam,"
he inquired, " do you mean that my daughter is so
to settle the transaction as to spare your family and
the name which you bear from the possibility of a
stigma?"

" My husband will explain all this," replied
Mrs. Parks. " He has told me everything that
has already taken place between yourselves and
him — he is prepared to make restitution of your
fortune, Ellen — and though the drain upon our
own resources will be thereby immense, yet thank
heaven ! it does not inflict a ruinous blow — and
the prosperity of my husband's business will per-
mit of a retrieval."

At this moment the door opened ; and the foot-
man entered, saying, " If you please, sir — and you
also, Miss— Mr. Parks is ready to receive you both
in his private office."

" I rely upon your kindness, Ellen !" said Mrs.
Parks, in a low hurried whisper, as she caught my
hand and again pressed it with spasmodic violence
for an instant.

I issued from the room, my father following ;

and the door closed behind us. The footman was
already leading the way down the staircase ; and
upon the landing my father awd I exchanged
looks of mutual congratulation ; for the scene with
Mrs. Parks had completely confirmed the impres-
sion which we entertained on our arrival, that all
would be right. We hastened down the stairs ;
and the footman threw open the door of the law-
yer's private office.

We entered— and that door closed behind ua.
Mr. Parks rose from big desk at which we found
him seated ; and he bowed in that half-diffident,
apprehensive manner which a person conscious of
great crimes was likely to adopt. He indicated
chairs; wo took them— and he resumed his own
seat.

" Miss Percy," said Mr. Parks, speaking in a
low, serious, business-like tone, and with the air of
a man having a grave transaction in hand, " I
have to apologize for the delay which occurred in
the first instance in fulfilling my pledge. I asked
for a week at the outset : I was then compelled to
ask for another. So large a sum could not be
realized in a moment ! At the expiration of that
second week I was fully prepared : and then. Miss
Percy, it was you whose absence engendered an-
other delay."

"True," I said: " and therefore, Mr. Parks, I
likewise have an apology to make."

"You are in mourning, F perceive," he said;
" and your father informed mo that the death of a
distant relative is the cause. I never knew that
you possessed any other relatives than those whose
names wore familiar to you from your infancy."

"This relative whose death I deplore," I re-
sponded, " is one whom I only recently dis-
covered."

" We will return to the business for which we
have assembled here," said Mr. Parks, turning
over some papers which lay bafore him. " Your
father and I, Miss Percy, have already calculated
the amount which is due to you. The original
sum was exactly 3O,O0OZ. : the interest, at three
per cent, for seven years, is 6,300L ; and I Lave to
express my gratitude that you have not pressed
matters to a nicety by charging me compound in-
terest. Thus the actual sum which according to
agreement I have now to reimburse, is 36,300?."

" My father has already explained to me these
calculations," I said, with a beating heart ; " and
I am perfectly satisfied."

" I have drawn a cheque for that amount," said
Mr. Parks. " You will be pleased to satisfy your-
self that it is in all respects formal."

Thus speaking, he handed the cheque to my
father, — who examined it with attention, and
then passed it to me, saying, " It is perfectly cor-
rect."

I should observe that the draft was not a printed
form cut from a banker's book ; but it was written
upon a slip of the blue paper which lawyers are
accustomed to use. I glanced inquiringly at my
father ; and he, immediately comprehending what
was passing in my mind, said with a smile, " It is
perfectly correct, Ellen. Written or printed, the
form is precisely the same."

Satisfied with this assurance, I laid the draft
upon the desk : for, as I perceived that there was
yet some business to be transacted before I could
legitimately call tho draft my own, 1 did not

choose to take immediate possession of it. My
heart was still beating with audible pulsations : for,
step by step, the business appeared to be progress-
ing towards a favourable issue— and I thought to
myself, " Within the hour that is passing, I shall
be endowed with a fortune !"

" I believe," said the lawyer, resuming the dis-
course, " that you have seen Mrs. Parks, and that
she has made an appeal to you on behalf of the
name which we bear and the young family which
looks up to our countenance and support ?"

" Yes, I have seen Mrs. Parks," was my re-
sponse to the speech that was specially addressed
to myself.

"And you will deal mercifully with us. Miss
Percy ?" continued the lawyer : " you will not, on
quitting the oflice, leave behind you the chance
that exposure may sooner or later ensue, and that
such exposure may brand myself, my wife, and my
children with indelible infamy ?"

" I assuredly am not vindictive," I rejoined.
"You are making reparation — and it is for me to
show mercy : you are restoring me my fortune-—
and I accept the deed in the light of an atone-
ment."

"Miss Percy, I thank youl" answered the
lawyer, apparently speaking with deep emotion.
" A man may have the courage to do a bad action ;
and yet he may be the veriest coward in contem-
plating the possibilty of its exposure to the world.
Besides, a father necessarily trembles at the bare
idea that his offspring may ever be doomed to ex-
perience shame on account of their parents and
the name which they bear."

"The truth of such sentiments can be readily
admitted," I observed. "But now, Mr. Parks,
explain what you would have me do."

" Be kind enough to listen attentively," resumed
the lawyer : " your father will likewise listen— and
I think that neither of you will object to tho course
which I am about to suggest. Your grandfather.
Miss Percy, left behind him a will bequeathing to
you the sum of 30,000?., together with his house at
Leeds. That will was destroyed by my mother,
the deceased Mrs. Parks; and a forged one was
substituted. With shame and grief I confess that I
was the forger. The forged will was prorcd and ad-
ministered to : it now exists in Doctors' Commons.
But I am about to restore your fortune, Miss
Percy: I am likewise about to make over to you
your house at Leeds ; — and thus you will presently
stand precisely in the same light as if your grand-
father's will were still in existence, and as if we
were now acting according to its provisions. Ah !
I forgot to show you the deed transferring the
house from my hands into your's. Here it is."

My father and I exchanged rapid glances, ex-
pressive of our agreeable surprise and approval in
respect to the lawyer's conduct : for the house at
Leeds had hitherto been lost sight of, and he was
li'.erally restoring it of his own accord. My father
looked over the deed of conveyance ; and by a nod
he indicated his satisfaction with regard to its
complete accuracy and validity.

" You see, then, Miss Percy," continued P.uks,
"that I am doing you ample justice, though I
confess that it is tardy. You have your house and
your fortune. Is it therefore needful to brand as
a forgery the will which has been proved and re-
gistered at Doctors' Commons ? Pray reflect,

ELLEN PEBCT ; OE, THE MEMOIKS 01? AN ACTU;5S3.

335

Miss Percy — and you likewise, sir," proceeded the j
lawyer, " that an accident might some day en-
gender a whisper in reference to that fact ; and if I
the voice of accusation were to be raised against
me, proclaiming that I was a forger, vain and
fruitless were it for me to hope or attempt to pre- \
serve my character from opprobrium by replying, |
' Yes— but I have restored the fortune and the
house !' "

I was struck by the truth of these observations :
and glancing at my father, I perceived by his
countenance that he likewise admitted their force.
'* I stand in the light of a criminal," continued
Mr. Parks, " who has been compelled to disgorge
his plunder, but who throws himself at the feet of
the plundered individuals, imploring that they will
p^don him — that they will throw a veil over his
crime — and that they will not leave a chance of its
transpiring to overwhelm himself and his family
sooner or later with obloquy and disgrace !"

" And to me, Mr. Parks," I replied, after aa-
other glance at my father, " you shall not appeal
in vain ! This pledge I have already given to
your wife : I now renew it unto yourself."

" I for my part," interjected my father, " echo
the sentiments of my daughter : but yet I do not
see how we are to aid you. The forged will can-
not be reclaimed from Doctor's Commons •"

" No !" ejaculated Mr. Parks : " but it need not
stand the chance of ever being branded as a for-
gery ! — that stigma may be wiped away from it !
—the character of validity may be given to it;
and it may be legalised by the simplest operation
—by the simplest act on your part !"

"But what if my daughter and myself," ex-
claimed my father, "solemnly pledge ourselves
never to breathe a syllable to the effect that the
will is a forgery ? Indeed, we have uo tempta-
tion so to do ; for, as you yourself have said, my
daughter now stands in the same light as if no
will had ever been forged at all, and as if the
original one of Mr. Forsyth remained in force."

" Ab, but look you !" exclaimed Mr. Parks :
" for the sake of my dear children I am most
painfully apprehensive, and therefore most scrupu-
lously cautious. You, sir— and you likewise, Miss
Percy, may pledge yourselves never to breathe a
syllable — and you may faithfully as well as kinJly
mean to fulfil your promise. But a thousand acci-
dents may happen 1 There is such a thing as
speaking in the delirium of fever — or talking in
one's dreams— or in an unguarded moment letting

slip a word in short, it is a risk too fearful for

me to incur! — and though I am not in a position
to dictate, nor pretend to any such power, yet I
earnestly hope and entreat that the favour I ask
will not be refused."

" Proceed to explain yourself still farther," I
said. "You have informed us of your motives,
and I confess that to my mind they are strong
enough :" — for I could not help thinking that a
mau who was about to part with such an enor-
mous sum of money, notwithstanding the fraudu-
lent means by which his mother and himself
originally obtained it, had some shadow of justi-
fication in stipulating for conditions favourable
towards himself.

" I understand the motive of Mr. Parks, as w«ll
as 1 comprehend Lis position," observed my father.
" You wi»ib, sir, in plain terms to be totally with.

out fear or apprehension in respect to any living
soul ? You wish to have the certainty that iu no
moment of caprice or spite my daughter or myself
might be enabled to turn round upon you ?"

"You have put tho thing as a man of the
world," exclaimed Parks; "and that is the plain
English of it. Now look you ! Suppose I had
given a forged bill of exchange, which fell into
your hands— and suppose you came here to de-
mand payment of it, — should I not insist upon
having such bill destroyed before my eyes the in-
stant that I paid down the amount ? Well, then,
the present case is pretty nearly parallel. We
cannot destroy the forged will, it is true : but we
may give to the whole affair a complexion which
will utterly absolve me from blame."

" Or rather you would say, Mr. Parks, release
you from the responsibility attached to the mis-
deed:"-—and my father spoke these words
seriously. •

" Well, phrase it us you will," rejoined the
lawyer : " the fact exists tho same. Now I tell
you what I propose should be done. Let us as*
8ume that the will— the forged will, you know—
which has been proved at Doctors' Commons, ia
really a valid one. Let us suppose that it was
actually the legitimate will of the late Mr. Eor-
syth. Well, this will cuts you off altogether, Miss
Percy, and leaves you dependent on the old gentle-
man's housekeeper, to whom he made over every,
thing—— no uncommon occurrence, by the bye,
with superannuated old gentlemen, as I in my
capacity of a lawyer well know. You and youu
friends think yourselves aggrieved by this will —
and natural enough ! You threaten me with legal
proceedings to dispute it — you aro going to throw
the whole thing into Chancery — where, if you do
so, it will remain for years and the entire amount
will be devoured by costs. All this, mind you, is a

supposition But you are both following me ?"

My father inclined bis head ia token of assent ;
and I said, " Yes, Mr. Parks, I am following you.
Proceed."

'' Well then," resumed tho lawyer, " in order to
avoid this terrific embarrassment— in order, I say,
to keep out of a Chancery suit — let us go on sup-
posing that I am accessible to reason. You like-
wise. Miss Percy, are reasonablo ; and the result is
that we agree to a compromise. I have got hold
of the fortune ; and possession ia, you know, nine
points of the law. I am in a position to dictate
my terms to a certain extent : you, on the con-
trary, having but slight confidence iu what may
be the issue of law-proceedings, aro willing to
accept almost anything so long as you get some-
thing. Well then, after due negotiations you
agree to accept three thousand pounds ; and I
agree to give that sum as a means of settling the
affair. I have drawn up a deed to this effect : you
have nothing to do but to sign it in the presence
of one of my clerks as a witness— and all will be
over. You will have done me a service and set
my mind at rest ; while on the other hand you
have done yourself no harm — for iu reality i/ou
will have got the whole of the fortune, and I shall
have nothing but this bit of parchment to console
me."

"You say that you have already prepared a
deed," observed my father : " will you permit me
to look at it.^'

336

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE ME5IOIB3 OF AJT ACTBESS.

" Ob, certainly !" cried Parks. " Never sign
anjthing that you are unacquainted with ! Here
is the document,"

Mr. Parks accordingly handed my father a
parchment deed ; and he read it attentively. He
then reflected for a few minutes ; and he said, " I
see no harm in your signing this document, Ellen.
I will explain it to you. It sets forth that inas-
much as a will, made by the deceased Mr. For-
syth of Leeds, in favour of Mrs. Parks, now also
deceased, has given displeasure unto yourself, you
have threatened law-proceedings with a view of
setting it aside on the score of the mental incapa-
city of the testator at the time to exercise due dis-
crimination in the disposal of his property. You
therefore consent and agree to accept the sum of
three thousand pounds, together with a conveyance
of the house at Leeds, as a final settlement of the
matter at issue. By the fact of signing this docu-
ment, you acknowledge the validity, the legality,
and the integrity of the will; and you debar
yourself from the power of ever again making it
the subject of any unpleasant disputation between
yourself and Mr. Parks. Such is the purport of
the document which I hold in my hand," added
my father ; " and it is now, Ellen, for you to de-
cide whether you will affix your signature or
not,"

" If I understand the proceeding aright," I
said, " it is a mere formality so far as I am con-
cerned "

" While it renders me free from all apprehen-
sion of every kind," responded Parks. " "With
such a document in my possession, I could at any
moment defy the whisperings of scandal, if by any
possible means a hint should get abroad to the
effect that the will at Doctor's Commons is not a
genuine one."

I looked at my father— I beheld in his counte-
nance nothing to dissuade me from taking the
proposed step ; and I recollected the earnest and
contrite manner in which Mrs. Parks had appealed
to me. I felt convinced that the lawyer was per-
'orming a straightforward part in respect to the
restitution of my fortune. Before me upon the
writing-table lay the cheque for 36,300^. : there
likewise was the deed conveying to me the house j
at Leeds ; and the discharge which I was called ;
upon to sign recapitulated the conveyance of that |
house. Was not everything straightforward there- j
fore ? — how could there be a possibility of fraud or '
deception on the lawyer's part ? !

" I will sign that deed," I said, after a few !
moments of reflection. " Although it be attach- I
ing my namo to something which is not strictly I
true "

" Pardon me, Miss Percy," interrupted Parks, |
" there is really no untruth involved in such a
proceeding as this : the most fastidious mind
could not look upon it in any such sinister
light. You do not thereby acknowledge your
conviction or belief that the will never was
forged : you merely say that you now recognise
its validity bo far as you yourself are concerned
—which simply means that you pledge yourself
never to dispute it. Then, as for the considera-
tion of three thousand pounds in hard cash, you
have got twelve times that amount ; and here
again you commit no violation of the truth in
sientiff tbfl denn."

I listened with the utmost attention to every-
thing that Mr. Parks was saying ; and I certainly
was compelled to admit to myself that it would
indeed be a piece of most unnecessary fastidious-
ness to refuse my signature to the document.
Again therefore I said, " Mr. Parks, I will sign
it."

He bowed in acknowledgment of his thanks ;
and he said, " I am now about to summon my
clerk to witness the signature of the deeds. May
I beg of you both to adopt a demeanour which
may prevent the young man from suspecting that
anything beyond a mere business-transaction has
passed between us ?"

Having thus spoken, Mr. Parks rang a bell;
and almost immediately afterwards one of b\a
clerks entered from the outer office. At the same
instant the lawyer turned the cheque over upon
its face, 60 that the clerk might not notice its
amount.

"Mr. Moss," said the lawyer, thus addressing
the clerk, " you will have the kindness to witness
these two deeds. Here ! run your eye over the
contents, so that you may know what you are
attesting. The first — which is the one that I have
to sign — conveys to Miss Percy a certain house at
Leeds. You see the conveyance is in the usual
strain. This other deed — which is to be signed
by Miss Percy — is in settlement of certain dis-
putes betwixt this lady and myself : but you will
soon see what the gist of it is. Look ! Will of
the deceased Mr. Forsyth of Leeds — bequeathing
so and so— all the particulars duly set out, you

see then proviso for the conveyance of that

house to Miss Percy, together with the payment
of three thousand pounds ■!& short, it is an
amicable arrangement to prevent a ruinous Chan-
cery suit."

" I perceive, sir," said the clerk, who quickly
made himself acquainted with the purport and
tenour of both documents.

" Now, I will sign first," said Mr. Parks. " Yea
— it is all right— the deed of conveyance !" and he
signed accordingly : then placing his finger on the
seal, he added with the usual formality, " I accept
this as my act and deed."

"Now, Ellen," said my father, "it is for you to
sign."

" This is your document. Miss Percy," ex-
claimed the lawyer, as he placed it before me
and handed me a pen, " Be so kind as to sign
here. Your Christian name on one side of the
seal— your surname on the other. G-ood! And
now have the kindness to put your finger upon
that other seal, and repeat the little formality
which you heard me utter."

I did as I was desired,— saying, " I accept this
as my act and deed."

" Is that all, sir ?" inquired the clerk, with a
bow.

"Ah! stop a moment!" cried Mr. Parks, "I
had well nigh forgotten something — and not the
least important feature of the business ! I must
write a cheque for the three thousand pounds."

" But you have already," I exclaimed

" Pray suffer me, Miss Percy," interrupted Mr.
Parks, " I know perfectly well what I am about."

I could not understand his proceeding : but I
supposed that he did ; and as my father likewise
seemed to comnrehend it, I held my peace. Parks

ELLEK PEBCT ; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF AN ACTRESS.

tore off a slip of paper in the form of a draft ; and
he quickly converted it into a cheque for three
thousand pounds.

" Miss Percy," he said, " have the kindness to
put jour name at the back of this by way of re-
ceipting it — and then everything is finished, ilr.
Moss, please to be attentive, sir I"

I glanced at my father, who nodded his head as
an intimation that I was to execute this last for-
mality ; and I accordingly wrote my name at
the back of the cheque for the three thousand
pounds.

" It is all finished, Mr. Moss," said Parks : and
the clerk immediately withdrew. "You do not
seem to understand the meaning of this last little
arrangement. Miss Percy," continued the lawyer,
when the door had closed behind Mr. Moss : "yet
your father will tell you that it is all perfectly
right and straightforward. Remember that my
clerk knows nothing of that large cheque which
No. 43.— Ellen Peect.

belongs to you: and therefore he naturally ex-
pected to see me pay you the three thousand spe-
cified in the deed which he had witnessed. The
writing of this small cheque was therefore a mere
form to render the ceremony complete in my
clerk's estimation. Take your own cheque. Miss
Percy — take likewise this deed of conveyance—
those are yow papers. This document, which
you have signed, belongs to me : and as for this
little cheque," he added, taking it up, " there is
no further use for it."

As he thus spoke, he crumpled up the little
cheque and tossed it negligently into the fender.

The ceremony was over : I took the deed of
conveyance, as well as the cheque for 36,300Z. j
and I said in a voice full of emotion, " Mr. Parks,
you have now fully atoned for the past in my esti-
mation !"

" And in mine," added my father, solemnly.

The lawyer bowed, and immediately turned

338

ELXEN PEECT; OR, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTEES8.

aside, as if to conceal some strong feelings which
were agitating him. My father and I withdrew ;
and the next moment we issued from the lawyer's
house.

CHAPTEE LIX.

THE CHEQUE.

I CAK scarcely describe the sensations which I ex-
perienced at the termination of the business with
Mr. Parks : but I really believe that I was more
rejoiced at having obtained possession of the house
at Leeds, than the cheque for the fortune itself.
That house, whore so many years of my life had
been passed, was now my own ; end I promised
myself the satisfsctioa of proceeding thither to
visit it with the least possible delay.

" What o'clock is it ?" asked my father, when
we were at a short distance from the lawyer's
house.

" It is ten minute! to five," I answered, consult-
ing my watch.

"And the cheque is drawn upon a banking-
house in the City," observed my father. " We
have not time to get it cashed to-day — for the
banks close at five."

"That is of no consequence," I said: "to-
morrow will do just as well. I suppose you have
not the slightest doubt that the cheque will be
paid F"

" Not the slightest," rejoined my father. " I
am morally certain that it is as good as a bank.
note. If for a single instant the faintest shadow
of suspicion had arisen in my mind, I should have
advised you not to conclude the business until Mr.
Parks produced the whole sum in ready money
upon his desk. But everything showed that he
was most serious — most earnest. That appeal
made to you in the first instance by his wife-
then the well -planned and skilfully devised
arrangement by which the colour of validity has
been given to the forged will — the signatures in
the presence of the clerk — the voluntary cession of
the house at Leeds — everything, in short, proved
that Mr. Parks was for once in his life acting a
straightforward part !"

" For which, however," I interjected, " he can
take little credit to himself if ho comes to reason
with his own conscience j for the whole proceeding
was forced upon him."

" True !" said my father : " but you have for-
given him for the past— and though you have
acted generously, yet you could scarcely have done
otherwise when the man's conduct assumed the
aspect of an atonement, Eeferring to the cheque
which you have in your possession, understand
well that if it were not paid, Mr. Parks could im-
mediately be sued for the amount ; and the result
would bo utter ruin if he were really without the
means of liquidating the debt. Thus it is not for
a moment probable that he would have courted
such a position as this. All these considerations
passed through my mind while wo were in the
lawyer's olBce : stop by step I carefully watched
the progress of the transaction ; and I firmly be-
lieve, my dear Ellen, that if you had been accom-

panied by the astutest legal adviser, tha results
would have been juat the same."

"Well, my dear father," I said, after a few
moments' reflection, " I, like yourself, entertain
the fullest faith in the value of this cheque : but
we will not until to-morrow speak a syllable in
deliberation on the manner in which the capital
is to be laid out when it comes into our hands.
Neither shall I breathe a syllable to my friends in
Hunter Street respecting the transactions of this
day. In short, we will wait until the last step
shall have been taken, and until wo shall have the
proof that everything has progressed favourably
to the very end."

"Be it as you will, my dear girl," said my
father ; " and therefore I will reserve until to-
morrow all congratulationg, in the same way that
we are to abstain from all deliberations."

" Yes," I said, " because there is just the bara
possibility that wa may have been deceived — and
we should feel supremely ridiculous if we had
launched out into extravagant ideas and then
found that they were all based upon a mockery
and a delusion."

" At half-past ten to-morrow morning," said my
father, "I will come and fetch you : wo will pro-
ceed together into the City— and by eleven o'clock
all doubt will be thoroughly cleared up in one way
or another. Heaven knows, my dear child, that
after all my sad experiences of life I have no
reason to be sanguine! — but I must confess that
in the present instance I can scarcely see how it is
possible for us to have been duped."

My father and I now separated ; and I returned
to Hunter Street. I so composed my demeanour
that my friends should not be enabled to suspect
that anything extraordinary had taken place,—
though I resolved that if the cheque were paid on
the morrow, I would not lose a moment in reveal-
ing to them my good fortune. And though I was
not completely sanguine on the point, yet I really
could not see how it was possible that the lawyer
could hope to steal a march on me by the perpe-
tration of so gross a fraud. Thus in spite of my-
self I found my mind revolving certain plans to
be executed if I should become possessed of my
fortune. I would assuredly leave the stage ; and
I would write off to my cousin Harry in America,
to intimate that there was no necessity for him to
toil longer than he thought fit in money-making
pursuits. Ah ! a thrill of pleasure shot through
my heart as this reflection swept into my brain ;
for I loved my cousin — yes, dearly loved him !

When night came and I was alono in my
chamber, I could not help continuing my medita-
tions ; and they kept me awake for some con-
siderable time. Even if by any possibility the
cheque should not be paid, it was nevertheless
certain beyond the possibility of doubt or dispute
that I had possession of the house at Leeds. The
deed of conveyance was locked up in my desk,
together with my purse, into which I had put the
cheque for the 36,300?. In respect to that house
I might therefore in safety and security arrange
my plans. If it wanted reparation I would re-
pair it: I would do all I could to preserve it, in
memory of my deceased grandfather, who, as it
proved after all, had really left me his heiress and
bequeathed to me every tittle of his property,— mo*
leaving me dependent upon his old housekeeper,

EILEN PEECy; OE, TUB JIEMOIES 03? AN ACTEES3.

339

as for so long a time I believed he had done— buf,
on the contrary, actually leaving her in total de-
pendence upon my bounty. In the midst of my
meditations I sank off to sleep ; and when I awoke
in the morning, I could not immediately convince
myself that the lapse of a few hours would prove
whether I were to possess riches, or whether I had
been the dupe of a fraud and a delusion.

Punctually at half-past ten o'clock my father
came to fetch me j and I was in readiness to issue
forth with him. We engaged a cab, and took our
seats therein. My father's features expressed a
serene and steady confidence in the issue of the
transaction ; so that I began to chide myself for
having entertained any doubt upon the point.

" You have the cheque with you, Ellen ?" said
my father, som'e little time after we had taken
our seats in the cab.

"Yes," I responded. "I put it into my purse
yesterday, the moment I received it from Mr,
Parks ; and I locked it up in my desk the instant
I got home. I did not touch my purse again until
dressing myself ere now to accompany you. I was
fearful of losing the draft !"

"You cannot be too careful in such matters,
Ellen," observed my father.

"1 will give you the cheque," I said, taking
out my purse from my pocket ; " and you can
present it. There is no necessity for me to enter
the bank."

While I was thus speaking, I began to open my
purse; and I drew forth the draft which I had so
cu-efully folded up and deposited there. I handed
it to my father, folded as it was. He took it— and
in a leisurely way began to open it as we drew
nearer to the bank. An ejasulation suddenly peal-
ing from his lips, startled mo as if with a power-
ful galvanic shock, I glanced at the paper which
he held in his hand, and I exclaimed, " For
heaven's sake, what is the matter P"

"Do you not see, Ellen?" gasped forth my
father, scarcely able to speak. "It is a blank !"

"A blank!" I echoed. "But turn it over!
You are looking on the wrong side !"

He turned it over ; and the other side of the
paper was likewise a blank.

" What can it mean ?" I asked, in consterna-
tion and dismay.

" Ah ! what does it mean ?" said my father, in
a tone of fierce bitterness.

" Mr. Parks must have given me a blank slip
of paper by mistake !" 1 said.

" Ifo— nothing of the sort, Ellen !" rejoined my
father, who was deadly pale and quivering with
excitement. "I told you yesterday that I care-
fully watched every stage of the proceedings; and
I never lost sight of the cheque from the first in-
stant that it was placed upon the desk. I did not
throw a single chance away ; for I knew that we
had to deal with a villain. And now," added my
fntlier, in the low hoarse voice of concentrated
rage, " in spite of all my precautions ho has oror-
reachcd us at last!"

"And yet I do not see how!" I said: and I
also was much excited, " If it were the real and
veritable cheque which he gave me — the cheque
with the writing upon it — that writing which said
as plain as writing could be, ' Poy to Miss JSllen
T'ercy, or hearer, the sum of thirti/-six thousand
three hundred pounds,' — if it wore that cheque,

father, which I saw with my own eyes and read
word for word and letter for letter— how could it
possibly have become a blank in my hands ?"

" Pool, fool that I was not to think of the pos-
sibility of this !" ejaculated my father, who seemed
as if he were heedless of the rapidly uttered ques-
tions I had been addressing to him. " Ah, Ellen !"
he continued, " you know not half tho villany
which may bo perpetrated in this world ! Have
you never heard of sympathetic inks ?"

"Sympathetic inksP" I ejaculated in astonish-
ment. " No ! What do you mean ?"

"Inks," continued my father, with a voice and
look of rage, — "inks which when written in one
colour, will turn to another if held to the fire!^
inks so contrived that all species of delusions may
be accomplished by their aid for the amusenieut
of a party of children in a drawing-room — aye,
and for the deception of such grown-up persons
as consider themselves wiser than those children !
And we, Ellen, are now the dupes of one of these
foul frauds !— for there is a sympathetic ink which
may be read plainly upon tho paper within a
certain time after it has traced its marks there,
but which at length begins gradually to disappear
until it vanishes entirely !"

"Good heavens!" I ejaculated, shocked and
horrified at the detestable nature of the fraud
which had rendered us its dupes.

At the same moment the cab stopped at tho
door of the banking-house in Lombard Street.

" We have no business here now," said my
father, in a tone of concentrated bitterness : then
suddenly thrusting his head forth from tho win-
dow, he exclaimed to the driver. " We have
forgotten something — we have made a mistake.

Turn— and take us at once to Square."

The vehicle turned accordingly; and we were
soon retracing our way through the crowded
thoroughfares of the City.

"By heaven!" ejaculated my father, "a trick
more fiendishly villanous was never committed !
Bat the scoundrel shall not triumph over us ! We
I will speed to him— and unless he fulfils his bar-
gain, we will mercilessly give Lim into cus-
tody !"

"Perhaps," I said, with a tightening sensation
at the heart, "tho deed of conveyance in respect
to the house at Leeds is likewise by this tia:e a
blank ?"

" Heaven only can tell," exclaimed my father,
who was growing more and more excited, " to
what extent this miscreant's wickedness may havf
reached !"

"Pray tranquil'isa yourself!" I said, bccomiuf
alarmed at my father's looks: "I implore you tf
compose yourself !"

" Compose myself, Ellen ?" he cried, clenching
his fists in a fury of rage : "compose myself wher
I have seen you thus cruelly plundered and do
frauded— and when I could curse myself for iiaving
sat by and sanctioned all t!>e proceedings by whict
you are thus robbed ! Yet God knows how inno

cent I myself have been "

"Yes, yes, my dear father!" I exclaimed; "j
know it — I feel it all !— and therefore for heaven's
sake do not reproach yourself I Perhaps it would
be better for us to defer our visit to this vile un-
principled man ? perhaps we had better take legal
advice ?"

340

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEilOIfiS OF AN ACXEESS.

" Or perhaps we ought to take a constable with
us," ejaculated my father, "and give him into
custody for forgery, embezzlement, robbery, and
fraud of every infamous description !"

"Let us then seek the advice of some clever
attorney," I said. " For God's sake, my dear
father, do nothing rashly ! Remember," I added
impressively, "Parks is acquainted with the ter-
rible secret of your life; and it were utter mad-
ness to provoke him to give publicity thereto, if
we at the same time shall be doing no good to
ourselves in respect to this money."

"We will at all events go to him at once,
Ellen!" cried my father, who was so maddened by
rage as to be scarcely capable of listening to the
voice of reason or the suggestions of prudence.
"We will confront the villain— we will hear what

he has to say And besides," added my father,

clutching at a straw of hope even iu the midst of
his boiling passion, "it is just possible, Ellen —
and only just possible — that he may have by acci-
dent given you that blank slip of paper instead of
the cheque which he had drawn out ?"

" Yes, yes — it is possible !" I said, not precisely
catching at a hope, but clutching at something
which might serve as a means of appeasing my
father's almost frenzied anger.

" Well, then," he rejoined, " let us suspend our
judgment. But, Ah ! we will take Hunter Street
in our way — you shall just glance at the deed of
conveyance which he gave you in respect to the
house at Leeds — and you shall see whether tJtat
likewise has become a blank or not."

" And if not, dear father," I hastened to reply,
" there is some hope — tell me, is there not some
hope that it may after all prove a mistake in re-
spect to the draft ?"

" Yes, yes !" exclaimed my father : " the matter
will certainly look less suspicious !"

He gave a fresh instruction to the cabman ; and
we proceeded to Hunter Street. There he waited
in the cab while I proceeded up-stairs to my cham-
ber ; and it was with nervously trembling hands
that I unlocked the writing-desk. A thrill of joy
swept through my heart as I opened the docu-
ment: the writing upon that parchment was as
black, as clear, and as legible as it was at the first
moment when my eyes glanced over it at the law-
yer's office on the preceding day. Restoring the
deed to the desk — which I carefully locked again
— I sped down the stairs; and the moment I ap-
proached the cab, my father read in my counte-
nance the result of my investigation. I took my
seat in the vehicle again; and it drove away in the
direction of the Square at the West End where
the house of Mr. Parks was situated.

" Then there is indeed hope !" ejaculated my
father, as I told him that the conveyance deed was
precisely in the same state as when first delivered
into my hands.

" With this impression, therefore," I observed,
" you will with a becoming calmness and compo-
sure seek the presence of Mr. Parks ?"

"Yes, yes !" replied my parent : " I will afford
him the fullest opportunity of rectifying the error
—if an error it be. And truly it may prove so !—
I may have been too quick in jumping at a con-
clusion !— for now that I recollect, there were seve-
ral slips of paper lying about on his desk ■ How-
ever, we shall soon know !"

In a few minutes we reached the lawyer's resi-
dence; and both of us glanced forth with eager-
ness at the windows, to see if there were any signs
of a flight having taken place during the past
night. But the footman in the gorgeous livery
was standing at the front door, angrily dismissing
a beggar who had audaciously (as the lacquey
thought) summoned him to solicit alms; and at
the sight of the servant my heart was cheered.
The domestic hastened to open the door of the cab;
and my father, in a voice of forced composure, in-
quired, " Is your master at home ?"

"Yes, sir," replied the lacquey; "and he is
disengaged too. Please to walk in."

At home — and not denied to us— but about to
receive us with as much readiness as if he had ex-
pected our visit and had bidden his footman admit
us instantly ! This certainly was a good sign! —
and my father's looks showed that he entertained
a similar opinion. The lacquey conducted us to
his master's private office, where the business of
the preceding day had been transacted; and there
we found Mr. Parks seated at his desk. On our
names being announced, he rose— not with that
diffident and abashed air with which he had met
us the day before, but with the ready off-hand
assurance of one who felt as if he had put himself
entirely right with regard to us.

"Ah ! how do you do ?" he exclaimed. "Pray
sit down. A fine day — isn't it ? Beautiful wea-
ther, considering that we are now in the first week
of October ! By the bye, Miss Percy, may I ask
when you are to appear again ? for I have some
friends coming up from the country in a fetr days,
who are most anxious to see you."

" I am not to appear again for a fortnight, Mr.
Parks," I replied, in a courteous tone ; for I felt
convinced by his off-hand unembarrassed manner
that everything was right, and that we in our
suspicions had accused him of a crime when it
might only be an accident of which he himself was
still ignorant. " On account of the death of my
relative, Mrs. Oldcastle, I consider it decent and
becoming to withdraw from the theatre for a brief
period."

"True !" ejaculated Parks: " quite proper ! And
now, to what may I ascribe the unexpected plea>
sure of this visit P"

" A little mistake has occurred," said my father,
now acting the part of spokesman, — " but a mis-
take which I see is unknown to you."

" A mistake ? Indeed !" ejaculated Mr. Parks,
with a look which fully coofirmed my idea that
be was innocent of the detestable fraud which we
had imputed to hioi. '*' What sort of a mis-
take ?"

" One that you can rectify in a few moments,"
rejoined my father. " Only think of what a fright
we have been in ! Look hero ! Instead of giving
us the cheque, you gave us this slip of blank
paper."

" The deuce !" exclaimed Mr. Porks, with a look
of perfect amazement, as he took the paper from
my father's hand. " Well, 'pon my soul ! this ia
the strangest mistake that ever was made !" — ant'
he laughed heartily. " Blank ? So it is ! blank
on both sides !" — then with another laugh he tore
up the slip and tossed it into his waste-paper
basket.

" Yes, it is a droll mistake," said my father, notr

liLLEN PEliCV ; OK, THE MKAIOIKS OL' AX ACXJilii:

341

luughiug ia his turn. " But as I observed, you
can soon rectify it."

" To be sure !" cried Parks, taking up bis pen.
"But stop a moment ! Business is business, jou
know. Don't consider yourselves insulted — it's
only a professional precaution tbat I am just going
to adopt :" — and he rang the bell.

The clerk who had witnessed the deeds on the
preceding day, answered the summons.

" Mr. Mosa," said the lawyer, " take a cab at
once, and be ofif to the bankers. They have got
my pass-book. Just request them to make it up
to the latest moment; and bring it along with you
as quick as ever you can."

Mr. Moss bowed and retired.

" The cheque may have been presented, you
know," continued Mr. Parks when the clerk had
withdrawn ; " and we must just see that the affair
is all right and straightforward. I am sorry that
Mrs. Parks is not at home at the moment ; but
you can walk up into the drawing-room and wait
till Moss returns. I will let you know the instant
he comes back."

" Mr. Parks," I said, with the colour mantling
upon my cheek, " you cannot for an instant sup-
pose that I am capable of obtaining money on
one cheque, and then coming to defraud you of
another ?"

" Mr. Parks is right, my dear Ellen, in adopt-
ing his precautions," interjected my father : " it
is all consistent with business-habits — the more
especially as the sum is a large one."

" I beg Mr. Parks's forgiveness," I said, in a
tone of renewed courtesy, " if my observation were
offensive."

" Ob, I forgive you, Ellen !" he exclaimed, with
a cheerful laugh : " your sex understands nothing
of business. But pray go to the drawing-room.
You will have about an hour and a half to wait ;
and I will presently send you up luncheon."

My father and myself accordingly ascended to
the drawing-room, — both of us being thoroughly
convinced that the circumstance which had so
alarmed and excited us, was an error after all,
and that it would be presently rectified. Nearly
two hours elapsed, — at the expiration of which
period we heard a vehicle stop at the house ; and
my father, hastening to the window, announced that
Mr. Moss bad returned. Two or three minutes
afterwards Mr. Parks came up into the drawing-
room, with his banker's book open in his hand.

" By Jove, this is serious !" he exclaimed, shut-
ting the door behind him. " The cheque has been
presented and paid. Here it is, you see — the very
last entry !"

" Good heavens !" I exclaimed. " But how is
this possible ? I declare to you, Mr. Parks "

" Ah ! how is it possible ?" ejaculated the law-
yer : and methought that there was a certain
iron; in his tone as well as a suspicious gleaming
in his looVs. " Here is the name sure enough !
' Ellen Fercy' — with the amount duly entered.
And by the bye, Mr. Moss has just told me that
one of the clerks at the bank casually mentioned
to him that this last cheque was presented by a
lady closely veiled, the very moment the doors
of the bank opened this morning."

" Some terrible fraud has been perpetrated !" I
exclaimed, infinitely excited and indignant.

" A fraud ?" exclaimed my father furiously :

"yes— and of a most mysterious description I
Would you bo kind enough to let me look at the
entry in your book, Mr. Parks ?"

" Certainly," answered the lawyer, whose man-
ner was now to all appearance cold and suspici-
ous.

" Why, what is this P" cried my father in asto-
nishment, as be glanced at the book which Mr.
Parks handed him. "The entry is, ' Ellen Ferei/
—3,000?.' "

"Ah!" I ejaculated, as an idea of treachery
at once smote me.

" Well," said Parks, with the most remarkable
coolness, "and pray what ought the entry to
be?"

My father gazed upon him for nearly a minute
in mingled astonishment and consternation, as if
he could scarcely satisfy himself that the scene ho
beheld enacting before him was a real one— and as
if be were equally at a loss to comprehend the
attorney's drift.

"Well," said Parks, with an effrontery which
was perfectly astounding, " and pray what the
deuce does all this mean ?"

" It is not, sir, of the cheque for 3,000?. that I
and my daughter have been speaking : for this
cheque was never supposed to have been drawa
for presentation at all. It is another cheque,
sir," added my father emphatically, — • " another
cheque- ■ ■"

" Another cheque ?" said Parks, as if smitten
with amazement. " I don't understand you."

"Good God!" cried my father: "is it pos-
sible -"

"Now I tell you what it is, Mr- Percy — Croft—.
Forsyth — or whatever name you choose to call
yourself by," interjected Parks, with an insolent
tone, brow-beating look, and blustering manner,
" it is pretty clear you have come to play off
your tricks upon me : but it won't do. And as
for you, Ellen — I am ashamed of you!"

"Mr. Parks," I said, advancing straight up to
him. while the blood glowed and burnt upon my
cheeks and I felt that my eyes wore flashing
fire, "you are a villain — and in your heart you
know it !"

" It's lucky for you that you are a woman and
not a man," said the lawyer, turning very pale,
and retreating a pace or two, as if he really
thought that I should attack him. " But you
had better take care how you use harsh names."

"Forger!" I ejaculated, unable to restrain my.
self.

"Daughter of a forger!" exclaimed Parks, but
at the same time springing behind the centre*
table of the drawing-room : so as to place it be-
twixt himself on the one side and myself and
father on the other.

But he had no need to be afraid of me at that
instant ; for I was powerless to harm him : I had
been stricken a sudden blow — my heart was smit>
ten with the direst affliction. I felt that by yield-
ing to a paroxysm of rage, I had evoked the taunt
which rebounded so terribly upon the head of my
parent.

" Father," I said, in a voice that was low and
tremulous with a sense of utter humiliation on my
own account, and of commiseration on his, " for-
give me ! It is my fault that this bad man should
be enabled to insult you !"

342

ELLES PEECY ; OB, THE MEilOIRS OJ AN ACTEESS.

" Grieve not for me, Ellen," he replied —
though he himself had been horribly wounded in
the most vulnerable point of his heart. " It is
one of the punishments due to my past errors;
and I submit. Mr. Parks," he continued, turning
towards the lawyer, " let us speak, if you please,
with as little passion as possible — and without any
abuse. I demand from you, in the name of my
daughter, a cheque for 36,300?.; and if you
give it me not, you must take the conse-
quences."

" You have said well," replied the lawyer,
"when you proposed that we should plead our
respective causes Vithout passion. There seems
to be a misapprehension on one side or another ;
and with your permission I will adopt the means
of setting it at rest. I beg that in the presence
of a person whom I am about to summon hither,
no harsh word may be thrown out agaiust myself
—or I shall use harsh words in return. I also
desire that no accusation be made — or I shall turn
round and recriminate. Let us hear the wit-
Bess; and when he is gone we will discuss the
points."

Without waiting for a reply, the lawyer has-
tily opened the door and went forth upon the
landing, whence he shouted out, " Mr. Moss !"

In a few moments the clerk made his appear-
ance ; and I hastily whispered to my father, " For
heaven's sake be calm ! I entreat you to remain
altogether silent vhile Mr. Moss is present. It
would be terrible to have an exposure before
him!"

" I will obey you, my dear child," answered my
father, likewise speaking in a whisper:— and he
eat down.

I also took a chair, as a sort of tacit assurance
to my father that I intended to treat the whole
subject with calmness and deliberation : but Mr.
Parks, taking his station on the hearth-rug, leant
bis back against the mantel — stuck his thumbs
into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said,
" Now, Mr. Moss, have the kindness to answer me
a few words."

The clerk bowed, as he stood at the centre
table, on which one hand rested.

" Mr. Moss," proceeded the lawyer, " you yes-
terday witnessed a deed which Miss Percy signed
in your presence ?"

"Yes, sir— to be sure, sir:" — and the clerk
looked with a sort of astonishment at me as if he
thought I had been denying tny signature to the
deed.

" And what did that document set forth P" de-
manded Mr. Parks.

" Ob, sir," responded Moss, " it was plain and
simple enough, to the effect that for certain con-
siderations Miss Percy renounced all legal pro-
ceedings on account of the deceased Mr. Forsyth's
will — that she recognised its validity and its
legality — that she agreed, so far as she was con-
cerned, it should remain in full force, and that she
abandoned to you, sir, all the rights which you
already enjoyed by virtue of that will."

" And what were the considerations for which
Miss Percy made these concessions ?" inquired Mr.
Parks.

" For the conveyance of the house at Leeds,
estimated as being worth 1,500?,, and for a sum
of 3,000?. in ready money."

" Was the conveyance of the house made?'

" It was, sir."

" Was the sum of 3,000Z, paid ?"

" It was, sir."

" How was it paid ?" asked Parks.

" By a cheque, sir, upon your bankers," replied
Mr. Moss. .

" Did Miss Percy place her name at the back of
that cheque P"

" To be sure, sir. I saw her thus receipt it."

" Have you positive knowledge," asked the law-
yer, " that the cheque has been presented and
paid ?"

" I have the positive knowledge, sir," rejoined
the clerk.

" That will do, Mr. Moss. Thank you. You
can retire."

The clerk bowed and withdrew accordingly. My
father and I had sat in profound silence through-
out the above colloquy : but I saw by my parent's
looks that he gradually comprehended, as well as I
did, the diabolical scheme of villany by which Mr.
Parks had put himself right in respect to the
forged will, — retaining possession of the immense
bulk of my fortune, and taking a stand which
enabled him to set us at defiance. He had sacri-
ficed the house at Leeds only ; this comparatively
worthless property he had made over to me in
order to give a colour to the transaction between
us ; and as for the cheque for 3,000Z., it had doubt-
less been presented by his wife or some other
female accomplice, who on receiving the money at
the bankers', at once restored it to Mr. Parks him-
self. Y"es— I now saw it all!— and when on the
preceding day he had crumpled up that small
cheque and tossed it into the fender, it was with
the studied intention of taking it forth thence and
using it in the manner described ; for it had my
name at the back of it — and thus when passed
into the bankers' hands, would have the effect of
a receipt for the sum specified in the deed.

" Well," said Mr. Parks, when the clerk had
retired, — "and now how does the business look P
what aspect does it wear?"

" You best know, sir," responded my father, in
a low deep voice, which was indicative of a sense
of utter discomfiture, " to what extent you have
deceived us."

" Oh !" ejaculated Parks, " since you mean to
revert to strong language, I shall adopt the same.
Look you ! If I did but raise my voice, I might
summon a policeman hither to take you both into
custody for endeavouring to defraud me out of a
cheque for 3,000? , when the one you received has
been presented and cashed."

" Ob, Mr. Parks !" I cried, " how can you speak
thus ? You know that we never received that
cheque— but that it was one for twelve times the
amount which we did receive !"

" Stuff and nonsense !" exclaimed the lawyer,
who now had the effrontery to simulate impatience
and indignation. "You are mad! For what
earthly reason should I have given you such a
cheque? The transaction was all bond Jide — at
least on my part : the deeds are in existence— and
my clerk witnessed everything."

"Ellen," said my father, in a hollow voice, "it
is useless for us to remain here. 1 see it all.
Your generosity has been imposed upon ; and the
forms of the law have been invoked with a devilish

ELLEN PEHCY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS.

313

ingenuity to give a particular complexion to the
whole business. Everything tells against us for
the present — but only for the present! No I —
because," continued my father, raising his voice
to a menacing tone, " heaven will not suffer a
pure-minded, generous-hearted, and virtuous girl,
as you are, to be for ever debarred of your just
rights! Come, Ellen! The very atmosphere of
this house is contaminating,"

Mr. Parks was perhaps sufficiently well pleased
with the iniquitous success which he had consum-
mated—and was perhaps likewise too cowardly to
throw out any fresh taunt which might lash up
my father's and my own spirit into a fury : so he
uttered not another syllable— but lounged with
his back against tho mantel, with his hands diving
down deep into his breeches- pockets, at the same
time that he contemplated his patent leather boots
in a nonchalant style . I also remained silent; for
I was fearful that if another irritating word were
spoken, Mr. Parks might turn round with some
terrible recrimination against my sire; and the
heart of the latter had been already sufficiently
wounded on my account.

I followed my father from the room ; and as we
reached the front door, ho said, " I shake off the
dust from my feet against this house of inicjuity
and crime !"

CHAPTEE LX.

THE CLIFF.

We walked slowly in silence through the Square,
— both of us absorbed in our painful reflections.
At length my father suddenly said, " It is a vil-
lany, Ellen, of the most unheard-of description !
Nothing remains to you, my poor girl, of the
fortune which is justly your's but the old houso at
Leeds !"

" And I am thankful that I am in possession of
that house !" was my response.

" Yes— it is a stupendous villany," continued
my parent. "Do you see bow well the wretch
has combined all hia plans — with what artistic in-
genuity ho has woven the tissue of his turpitude,
80 that in the eye of the law he is no longer a
forger or an embezzler ? There is not the slightest
ground for invoking justice to compel the restitu-
tion of his plunder unfo those hands from which
he has plundered it— nor to smite him as the per-
petrator of frauds and villanies! Ellen, for you,
my dear girJ, my soul is exceedingly sorrow-
ful !"

" Let it not be so, my dear father," I inter-
rupted him. " If all our hopes have been de-
stroyed, I am still where I was before ever those
hopes were entertained. I have not abandoned
my profession ; and this profession produces me at
the rate of two thousand a-year."

" Heaven be thanked that it is so !" exclaimed
my father. "You must some day go to Leeds
and take possession of your house "

" I have a proposition to make," I interrupted
him. " Will you accept of it? will jou fix your
home there ?"

" No, my dear child," replied my father : " I
could not endure to dwell in a houso which would

remind me of the period when you yourself were
living there, ignorant of your parent's crimes, and
ho in banishment the while in a far-off land !
Besides," added my father hastily, as he perceived
that the painful topic had drawn tears from my
eyes, " I would not be so far removed from the
sphere in which you aro shining. No, Ellen I I
have now nothing more to do in London ; and I
have heard of a little cottage at Forest Hill, but a
few miles hence, to which I purpose to retire. I
shall proceed thither to morrow. You will come
and see me occasionally ; and I shall sometimes—
though more rarely — call in Hunter Street to visit
you. Grieved am I to exist in dependence upon
your bounty •"

" Hush ! not a word, my dear father, on that
subject !" I ejaculated. "The thought that I am
enabled to minister to your wants, inspires me
when pursuing tho avocations of my profes-
sion."

After some little further conversation, my
father and I separated ; and I returned to Hunter
Street. To say that I was not grieved at the loss
of my fortune— a loss which now appeared beyond
all redemption — would be to assert something un-
natural and to ask the reader to give credence to
an untruth. But I bore that loss with philoso-
phical resignation; and I was rejoiced to think
that I had not spoken of my hopes to any of my
friends.

A fortnight passed ; and I re-appeared upon the
stage— as likewise did Mr. and Mrs. Norman. I
was most enthusiastically welcomed by a crowded
house ; and Mary Glentworth now for the first
time beheld me in pursuance of my professional
avocations. When the performance was over and
we were again at home, she threw herself into my
arms, weeping with the various emotions which
my personification of one of my favourite cha-
racters had excited within her ; and she exclaimed,
" Oh, Ellen ! I would give the best years of my
life for one single hour of triumph such aa you
have enjoyed this night !"

I smiled at her enthusiasm : but the incident
made a somewhat serious impression upon my
mind : for, remembering the conversation which
had taken place between us the first day we ever
met — remembering likewise her volume of Shak-
sjiere, with the pencilled underlinings — I could not
help thinking that she had possibly conceived a
passion for the stage.

On the following day the Normans and I had
to attend rehearsal at the hour of noon ; and as
Mary G-lentworth wished to make some purchases
at the West End, she proceeded in the carriage
on her shopping expedition. My presence at the
theatre was only needed for about an hour : but
Mr. and Mrs. Norman had to remain at rehearsal
for some time longer. It was therefore arranged
that Mary should return with the carriage to
fetch mo at one o'clock; and at about that hour
it was announced to me that the equipage was in
waiting. I accordingly quitted the theatre, and
was stepping into the carriage, when I was struck
by the joyous enthusiasm that animated Mary's
countenance. She had evidently something im-
portant to communicate ; and she could scarcely
restrain herself while the footman was putting up
the steps and closing the door. At length, as the
equipago began to move on, Mary seized my

344

ELI/BN PEECT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE3S,

hand ; and pressing it, with efifueion, exclaimed,
' Oh, dearest Ellen ! such a discovery !"

I trembled : for I knew that it must be some-
thing relative to her supposed uncle— her real
father, the Duke of Ardleigh. But veiling my
agitation, I said, " "What is it, Mary ?"

" My uncle— I have seen him !" she cried, half
bewildered with joy.

" And did he see you ?" I hastily demanded.

"No: the carriages passed so rapidly. But I
knew him in a moment! Oh, yes— I knew him !
it was impossible to mistake him ! And, Oh !
what a splendid carriage was he seated in! —
armorial blazonry upon the panels — the coachman
on the box and the two footmen behind in
gorgeous liveries, and with their hair powdered !
Ah, I told you that Mr. Glentworth must be a
gentleman ; but I had not an idea that he was so
rich as this !"

"And he did not see you?" I said, scarcely
knowing what I did say ; for I was musing in a
perplexed and painful manner.

"1^0— he did not see me," rejoined Mary:
" he was seated with a stout red- faced gentle-
man "

"Mr. Peaseblossom," I mentally ejaculated.

" And he had something in his hand — I think
it must have been a violin— but I really could not
tell. Oh ! now I am resolved to take some mea-
sures to find him out — at least with your consent;

for of course I would not do anything without

And you must remember, dear Ellen, that for the
last fortnight I have not alluded to the subject,
although you promised me that in the course of
a few days yoa would tell me how I should act ?"

" Yes — and I have been th'nking of it," I an-
swered. " Now I must again ask you, dearest
Mary, to be guided by my advice ? Indeed, I
will see into this matter at once."

" Ah, then you know something of which I am
ignorant !" exclaimed Mary. " I thought so : I
was sure of it! But have your own way. I
know that you are my dearest friend, and that
whatever you do is for my good. Only keep me
not in suspense longer than you can help, I con-
jure you, dear Ellen !"

" No— I will not," I responded, deeply afifected
by the sweet conBding manner in which the
amiable girl addressed me. " Do not speak to me
again on this subject until I myself renew it, and
then it shall be to tell you something decisive."

On reaching Hunter Street, I repaired to my
own chamber to write a letter to the Duke of
Ardleigh. During the fortnight which had elapsed
since Mary Glentworth first broached the topic, I
had postponed from day to day the disagreeable
task of renewing any communication with that
nobleman : but now I was determined to procras-
tinate it no longer, for the matter was becoming
serious. I therefore wrote to him in a guarded
strain, for fear lest the letter should fall into the
hands of others ; and I sent it to the post. All the
next day elapsed without bringing any answer;
and I was surprised at the circumstance. The
next day likewise passed in silence so far as th
Duke of Ardleigh was concerned ; and I dreaded
lest my letter should have been intercepted by his
imperious, jealous wife. The ensuing morning's
post, however, brought me the anxiously expected
response. It was dated from the Ship Hotel

at Dover, where it appeared the Duke and
Duchess were temporarily staying with their
family, previous to passing over to the Continent,
as they were going to spend the winter in Italy.
The Duke informed me that my letter relative to
Mary had given him great pain, and that he was
most anxious to see me, if only for a few minutes,
previous to his leaving England. He said that
for certain reasons (which he did not however ex-
plain) it was quite impossible for him to come up
to London ; and ho entreated me, as I was in the
secret and was Mary's friend, to run down to
Dover and grant him an interview. He intimated
how such a meeting might be arranged; and
wound up by a renewed entreaty that I would
grant his request.

Now it happened singularly enough that almost
at the same time that I received this letter, a
footman from the Marquis of Campanella's brought
me a note from Beatrice di Garboni, to the efi'eot
that she was going to Dover — that the Marquis
and Marchioness were unable to accompany her
— and that she appealed to my friendship to be
her companion for the trip. A hint, contained in
a couple of lines, gave me to understand that it
was for something in connexion with her husband
that she was desirous to pay a fiying visit to
Dover. For Mary Glentworth's sake I was al-
ready inclined to grant the Duke of Ardleigh
his request ; and the opportunity of being accom-
panied by the Countess of Carboni, confirmed me
in the idea. I therefore despatched an affirma-
tive answer to Beatrice, — specifying the following
day as the one on which I should be enabled to
start on the journey ; for circumstances fortu-
nately enabled me to obtain a dispensation from
attendance at the theatre on the evening of
the day next ensuing, so that I could command
four clear days for the purpose. To Mr. and
Mrs. Norman, as well as to Mary Glentworth, I
merely stated that I was going to accompany the
Countess of Carboni (with whom they knew I
was well acquainted) on a flying visit to Dover :
but I of course promised the Normans that I
should call at Eiver House to see Lord and Lady
Frederick EavensclifiFe.

In the morning of the following day the Coun-
tess of Carboni called for me in the' Marquis of
Campanella's travelling-carriage ; and I was soon
seated by her side in the vehicle. I should ob<
serve that I did not take Beda with me on the
present occasion.

" This is most kind of you, my dear Ellen I"
said Beatrice : " for I should not have liked to
travel alone — which would have been the case
were it not for your goodness in bearing me com-
pany. My sister the Marchioness is suffering, as
you know, with a very severe cold ; and the Mar^
quis has important business which retains him in
London."

" And it is your husband, my dear Beatrice,"
I said, " whom you are going to see ?"

"Yes," she responded, with a mournful look:
"and you can easily comprehend that I dread the
interview. You were kind enough to inform me
the other day how it had come to your knowledge
that he had settled in a cottage in the neighbour-
hood of Dover ; and the intelligence proves to be
strictly correct. He desires to see me for the last
time, if only for a few minutes. The letter

ELLEN PERCY ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEES3

oio

^'^^

M^ %\

'■if

ilr.Ji!

1 '

[\'\

^^^Ji

' 1 il J

l^b"^'

"vi

which I received from bim the day before yester-
day, was written in a tone of the most earnest
entreaty ; and I could not therefore refuse his de-
mand. It is now upvrards of seven months since
last I saw him — I never expected that we should
meet again — and methinks that he must have
some strong reason for desiring this interview."

"You cannot therefore surmise what this
reason may be ?" I said.

" No : it is impossible," rejoined Beatrice.
" The Count writes in a very mournful and de-
sponding strain. Perhaps he is ill ? perhaps he
fears that the hour of his dissolution is not far off
—and he may have some parting words to say P
At all events I have the consciousness of perform-
ing my duty both as a wife and a Christian, in
complying with this demand for a last brief inter-
view."

It is needless to relate any more of the con-
versation which took place between the Countess
No. 44(.— Ellen Peect.

and myself during our journey. We travelled as
rapidly as post-horses could bear us ; and in the
afternoon we came in sight of Eiver House. I
pointed it out to Beatrice as the residence of the
Normans' daughter, now Lady Frederick Eavens-
cliffe; and as we passed the dwelling, I looked to
see if I could catch a glimpse of my friend Juliet.
Yes!— she and Lord Frederick were walking to-
gether in the grounds : they did not notice the
equipage as it rolled rapidly along : but from the
manner in which Juliet was leaning upon her hus-
band's arm, I felt assured that his conduct still
continued affectionate towards her.

" And there," I said to Beatrice, " is the cottage
where your husband dwells !"

She glanced forth from the window at the pic-
turesque little habitation ; and then we both leant
back in the carriage, as we did not wish at that
moment to incur the chance of being seen by the
Count: for Beatrice bad decided upon driving

316

ELLEN PEECr; OR, THE MEMOIES OP AN ACTEESS.

Btrniglit into Dover in the first instance, and then
walking out in a private manner to visit her hus-
band.

In a few more minutes the equipage was enter-
ing the streets of Dover ; and the postilion bad
ah-eady received my instructions respecting the
hotel to which he was to take us; for 1 had no
inclination to put up at the establishment where
the Ardleigh family was staying. It was at about
four o'clock in the afternoon when we thus reached
our destination ; and we at onee ordered dinner
to be served up ; for Beatrice had decided upon
availing herself of the dusk to pay the visit to
her husband. As for the Duke of Ardleigh, I
could do aothing until the following day in re-
spect to my contemplated interview with his
Grace;

Beatrice asked me to accompany her for A por-
tion of the way to the cottage where her husband
dwelt,— not merely because she vrai ignorant of
the rout© which led to it, but likewise because
from motives of delicacy she did not like to leave
the hotel by herself id the evpning. I readily
consented ; and at about six o'clock we walked
forth together. As we S:eW near the cottage,
Beatrice begged me to Wait for her in the neigh-
bourhood,— assuring me that the interview witb
her husband eould not possibly be a long one.
To this proposal I likewise assented ; and we tem-
porarily separated, — the Countess pursuing ber
way towards her husband's abode. I did not
think it expedient to repair at onee to Eiver
Sduse to see Juliet; for I did not suppose that
Beatrice would be altogether more than half-an-
hour absent ; and thus I had no tiffle to pass with
Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe. She would naturally
have thought it strange if I merely paid her a
flying visit of a few minutes, without giving ex-
planations to account for ffiy hurry in leaving
her ; and those explanations I Was unable to give,
inasmuch as they would necessarily involve the
secrets connected with my friend Beatrice and the
secluded dweller at the little cottage.

I walked to and fro in the road : but I bad not
been many minutes alone, when Beatrice re-
turned.

" The Count is not at home," she said ; "and it
is quite uncertain at what hour ho will be back.
It appears that he is accustomed to wander upon
the cliffs — sometimes till a late hour; and an old
gardener whom I have just met, tells me that if I
particularly wish to see the Count to-night, I am
sure to find him on those heights yonder :" — and
Beatrice pointed in the direction of Shakspere's
Cliff.

" What, then, have you done ? or what do you
purpose to do ?" I inquired.

" I simply said that the domestics were to tell
their master that the lady whom he was expecting
had called, and that slje would seek another early
opportunity of repeating her visit. But I wish
that this interview was over, Ellen !" continued
Beatrice, her tone having accents that bordered
on anguish : " for you cannot be surprised if I tell
you that I look upon my husband with a feeling
bordering upon abhorrence."

"Do you think it useless," I inquired, "to
wait at the cottagu a little while for him ?"

"It seems to be a chance," responded the
Couutese, "whether he will return before nine

or ten o'clock — and he may be even later. I
would give anything to see him this evening !"

I comprehended what was passing in the mind
of Beatrice. She wished to seek her husband
upon the cliffs; but she was afraid to proceed
thither alone— and she was diffident in asking me
to aceorcpany her. I did not wonder that she
should be anxious to accomplish a most disagree-
able task with the least possible delay ; and I
commiserated ray poor friend. I therefore said,
after a little reflection, " If you be desirous of
seeking (he Count upon the cliffs, I will show
you the wa* thither, Beatrice. The shades of
evening are closing in; but it is still sufficiently
light to enable us to venture in all safety and
security. You have doubtless heard of Shakspere's
Cliff ? — and it is thither that we must bend our
steps."

" A thodnind thanks, my dear ElleU, for this
offer to accompany me !" murmured Beatrice,
pressing my band warmly in token of her grati-
tude. "Yes — I do wish to seek the Count this
evening. I dread the interview! The bare
thought of meeting that man conjures up the

ghastliest images irt tny mind you know what

I mean and the sooner the interview is over

the better."

"I will go with you, Beatrice," I said. "The
instant we distinguish the Count at a distance,
you caii hasten forward to meet him— you need
not tell him, unless you think fit, who it is that
has accompanied you— and the increasing gloom
of the evening will veil me from his recogni-
tion."

'\7e walked along together: and as all that re-
gion was tolerably familiar to me— for I had wan-
dered there when staying at River House— I was
enabled to conduct Beatrice by the shortest route
towards the spot where she expected to meet her
husband. In about a quarter of an hour we were
entering Upon the ascent, which for a space rises
gradually, until it grows into the steepness which
forms the summit of Shakspere's Cliff. The cul-
tivated land stretches to the point where this steep-
ness begins; and then the soil is covered with
grass. The shades of evening were deepening
around us ; the wind began to blow cold ; dark
clouds were piling themselves upon the arch of
heaven : but still it was suflSciently light to show
us the dark ridges of the clifis, and the flagstaff'
that marks the precipitous verge of the height to
which the name of Shakspere has been given.

TTe were now entering upon the steep summit
of the cliff itself: we proceeded slowly, stopping
ever and anon to fling our looks around us in the
hope of discerning the object of our search. I
must confess that I began to experience a sensa-
tion of alarm— that vague species of apprehension
which may be well understood as being an impres-
sion produced by the loneliness of the spot where
I was thus wandering with a being as defenceless
as myself in the presence of any danger that might
arise. The wind had a mournful sound : the as-
pect of the heavens grew more and more threat-
ening ; and I could not help thinking that if wo
were to encounter any evil-disposed persons, they
might plunder or maltreat us without a single
chance on our part of obtaining succour. Beatrice
shared my own apprehensions : tor she presently
said to me, in the halt-hushed voice in which terror

speaks, " This is a dreadful lonely place, Ellen !
1 am almost sorry that we have come hither 1"

At that moment I felt ashamed of the weakness
to which I had been yielding ; and assuming a
cheerful tone, I exclaimed, " But look, Beatrice !
There, upon our left hand, as if at our feet, gleam
the lights of Dover, — and a few minutes' walk
would bring us into its streets !"

"True !" replied the Countess : "but still we are
far enough off to prevent our loudest cries from

bringing succour to our aid in case Ah !" she

ejaculated, thus suddenly interrupting herself:
" there is some one !"

I glanced in the direction which Beatrice had
thus abruptly indicated ; and there I beheld a
human form, evideutly enveloped in a cloak. I
had little doubt that it was the restless, conscience-
stricken wanderer, the Count of Carboni. But a
sensation bordering on superstitious terror seized
upon me, when it struck me that the Count ap-
peared to be walking along the very edge of the
precipice itself. Beatrice and I had stopped short ;
and we were gazing up the steep ascent on the
extreme verge of which the object of our attention
seemed to be slowly pursuing his way. Through
the gloom of the evening his naturally tall form
appeared to be taller still: it stood out in the
blackness of bold relief against the dark back-
ground of the sky.

"Now for the ordeal which I so much dread,''
faltered Beatrice in a trembling tone. " Remain
you here, Ellen, while I hasten forward to accost
my husband. Ah i" and thus again did a sudden
ejaculation buret forth from the lips of the Coun-
tess.

At the same moment I distinguished the cause
of this ejaculation. Another human form had ap-
peared upon the ridge of the height, — seeming as
if it had all in an instant sprung up from the
earth itself— though it was doubtless its sudden
emerging from a winding path in the vicinage
which produced this startling idea. And that
second form had thus iu the twinkling of an eye
revealed itself at the distance of but a few yards
behind the spot where the Count himself was at
the moment. We beheld the Count stop short
and turn abruptly round as if he had been startled
by hearing ijotsteps behind him — or else as if
upon his ear had broken a voice inaudible to us at
the distance whence we surveyed this sceoe.

Beatrice and I still remained riveted as it were
to that spot where in the first instance we had
stopped short ; and wo both felt as if we were
about to become the witnesses of some scene the
anticipation of which exercised a superstitious
awe upon our minds. We might be compared to
those travellers amidst the Hartz mountains, who
are suddenly startled and terrified by beholding
the mirage-like reflection of the forms which, be-
longing to the range of atmospherical phenomena,
constitute tbe Spectres of the Brocken.

" Look !" suddenly exclaimed Beatrice, while a
cry of terror pealing from her lips, was echoed by
a similar one from mine own.

And no wonder!— for all in a moment we be-
held a horrible and frightful scene. That second
form which had appeared upon the height, rushed
suddenly at the Count of Carboni : ejaculations
of rage, borne upon the wings of the wind,
reached our ears; and, O heavens! how terrific

were our sensations 1 In the twinkling of an
eye those two forms had closed as if in a deadly
struggle upon the very verge of the cliff — a
struggle upon an eminence abruptly closing on a
precipice, at the foot of which, far below, was the
beach of the sea ! Words have no power to describe
the glacial horror which seized upon me, — a horror
which as fully smoto my companion. But the
hideous scene itself was as transient as a phantas-
magorian show. There was the struggle — the
closing of those two men in the deadly strife — and
then, O horror ! one was seen reeling back over
the edge of the yawning abysm ! And through
the dusky air— through the gloom of that October
evening— came the appalling cry of murder borne
upon the eastern wind 1 It was the Count him-
self who had thus been hurled over the precipice;
and his last rending agonizing cry mingled in that
eastern gale with the wild shrieks that rang from
the lips of Beatrice and myself.

The Countess sank upon her knees — now shriek-
ing no longer, but murmuring, " My God ! my
God !" in accents of indescribable horror. As for
myself, a dizziness seized upon my brain — a dim-
ness came over my vision— it quickly deepened
into utter darkness : I felt as if stricken blind.
My reason was reeling on its throne. Some mi-
nutes must have elapsed before I began to recover
from these awful sensations and influences ; and
then, as the darkness passed away from my vision,
as though a veil of thickest crape were withdrawn
from before my eyes, I flung my looks around to
see if I could anywhere discern the assassin. But
no ! — he was not to be seen. All objects which I
behold were stationary : there was no appearance
of the murderer fleeing in terror through the con-
genial gloom of the evening.

" Beatrice," I exclaimed, in almost frenzied ac-
ceats, and my whole frame quivering with a con.
vulsing horror, " this is terrible ! This is appall-
ing!"

" Oh, then it is indeed a frightful reality ! is it
not a dream ?" — and B2atrice started up to her
feet, as if suddenly galvanized.

" Alas ! alas ! it is all too real !" I said ; " and
wo have been the spectators of a most awful tra-
gedy !"

"Awful ! awful !" murmured Beatrice, who now
seemed as if she were on the point of relapsing
into a dream like state of consternation once
more.

" Arouse yourself, my dear friend !" I said, as
my own self-possession was returning, "Wo must
give the alarm ! — a tremendous crioie has been
committed in our view "

" And my wretched husband ha* met hi4
death !" cried Beatrice : then, hor voico suddenly
sinking into an awe-felt solemnity of tone, she
added, " May God have mercy upon his soul !"

"Amen!" I said with equal solemnity: nnd
then there was a deep silence for a few m)njcuts
— though in my ears still seemed to ring the last
agonizing cries of the murdered Italian nuble.

"And who, think you, was his assnssin ?" asked
Beatrice, at length breaking silence.

" Heaven alone knows !" 1 shudderingly ejacu-
lated.

" But it may be permitted to an earthly being
to form a conjecture," said Beatrice solemnly :
then, after a few moments' pause, she added.

318

ELLEN PERCY; OH, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTEESS.

" Eest aeaured, Ellen, that the murderer of my
husband is— Luigi !"

"Ah!" I exclaimed, as the conviction that
Beatrice bad rightly surmised, fastened itself upon
tay mind.

"Yes!" continued the Countess: "the wretch
who was so horribly vindictive towards myself,
would be equally vindictive toivards the master
whom he had been the means of plunging into
the most appalling crimes I There is but one
man on the face of the earth who could have thus
as a bloodhound tracked the wretched Count of
Carboni unto bis death ■ ' and that man is
Luigi !"

" Yes— doubtless it is Luigi! But come, Bea-
trice—come!" I exclaimed: "let us speed away
from this spot where the very wind itself seems
laden with murder's agonizing cries!"

We hurried along towards a path leading into
ttve entrance of Dover: but during the few minutes
occupied by our walk— or rather run thither— we
were both frightened lest we should suddenly en-
counter the assassin whom we believed to be none
other than Luigi. The darkness deepened — the
wind blew with greater strength; and its voice
seemed to the ears of us both to be laden with
wild and mournful accents. But language has no
power to describe all that we both felt on this
dreadful evening ; for what the feelings of Beatrice
were I could not only judge from the frequent
ejaculations to which her lips gave utterance, but
when on a subsequent occasion we were enabled
with greater calmness to discourse on the details
of the tragedy, she explained to me the nature of
all the terrors that had haunted her.

The entrance of Dover was soon reached ; and
we stopped short for a few moments to deliberate
upon the course which we should adopt, — when we
beheld two sailors approaching. We at once ac-
costed them, and in a hurried and excited manner
informed them that we had seen a man hurled off
the top of the cliff by another. The sailors ex-
pressed their willingness to speed to the spot
where the unfortunate victim of the crime would
no doubt be found : but they assured us that there
was not the slightest chance of finding him alive.
They recommended that we should lose no time in
communicating the horrible transaction to the
authorities, so that measures might be adopted for
the discovery and capture of the assassin, if pos-
sible. We mentioned our names to the sailors,
and likewise the address where we were to be
found ; and they sped away in the direction of the
beach beneath the cliffs.

After a short consultation with Beatrice, we de-
termined to hasten back to the hotel and inform
the landlord of what we had seen, so that he might
put us in the way of making the requisite com-
munication to the authorities. Beatrice asked me
if I thought it was necessary for her to state that
she knew who the victim was and proclaim him
to be her husband ? I assured her that it was
absolutely necessary, and that she must moreover
state that she had journeyed from the metropolis
in order to have an interview with the Count— for
that we must explain the circumstance of our pre-
sence in the vicinage of the scene of crime at that
hour.

We reached the hotel, where our pale faces and
excited looks at once showed the waiters whom we

met in the hall and on the staircase that some-
thing terrible had occuwed. We desired that tho
landlord of the establishment might at once be
sent to us ; and scarcely had we reached our sit-
ting room, when he made his appearance. Oar
tale was soon told; for we did not deem it neces-
sary to enter into minute explanations with him :
but he was horrified at the intelligence which fell
upon his ears, and be expressed the utmost sym-
pathy on our account as the witnesses of the
hideous tragedy. The Mayor of the town resided
at no great distance from the hotel ; and the land-
lord offered to conduct us to that official's abode.
But I saw that the Countess of Carboni was so
much overcome and exhausted by the terrific ex-
citement through which she had passed, that she
was not equal to a task which would only tend to
agitate her feelings anew. I therefore volunteered
to proceed alone, or rather in the landlord's com-
pany, to the residence of the Mayor ; and Beatrice
gratefully accepted the offer. I saw likewise that
it was all the more advisable I should take this
duty entirely on myself, because it would be ne-
cessary to give certain explanations to the Mayor
in respect to the murdered Count ; and the feel-
ings of Beatrice would be spared by her remaining
at the hotel.

I set out with the landlord; and in a few
minutes we reached the Mayor's residence. That
functionary was at home ; and he at once received
us. He was an elderly gentleman — very polite
and affable in his manners — and still more cour-
teous to me when he learnt from the landlord that
I was Miss Trafford the tragedian. I soon entered
upon the painful nature of the business which had
brought me thither : the Mayor was shocked and
horrified; and he asked me whether I could give
such a description of the assassin as might lead to
his arrest ?

" It is necessary that I should afford your wor-
ship certain particulars," I answered. "I have
already told you that I have positive reason for
knowing that the victim of this crime is an Italian
nobleman, the Count of Carboni. The lady who
was with me, is the Countess of Carboni — the
wife, or rather the widow of the deceased. With-
out entering into any family matters of a private
oharncter, I may simply remark that the Count
and Countess have for some while dwelt separately,
— though in justice to her ladyship I must add
that her own character and conduct are unim-
peachable. A very short time back the Count,
under a feigned name, took that picturesque little
cottage on the Canterbury Eoad, which is at no
great distance from Eiver House "

" I know the cottage well," observed the Mayor :
" it is where a lady of the name of Glentworth re-
cently died very suddenly ?"

" The same," I answered. " I must now pro-
ceed to inform your worship that the Count of
Carboni wrote to his wife in London, requesting a
last interview, if only for a few minutes. The
Countess complied with the summons ; and I as
her friend accompanied her. We proceeded to the
cottage— his lordship was not at home: we learnt
from the gardener that he had gone to walk upon
the cliffs— and we repaired thither ; for the Coun-
tess was most anxious to learn for what reason her
husband desired the interview. We reached the
ascent of the cliffs in time to behold the appalling

£LLEK F£SCY; OS, THE MEM0IB8 OP AM ACTBESS.

31J

tragedy. But now in reference to the murderer.
Neither the Countess nor myself beheld him with
sufBcient distinctness to enable us to swear to bis
identity : at the same time we have a suspicion—
though hearen knows it may possibly be most un-
founded "

" Tell me your reasons for this suspicion, Miss
Trafford," said the Mayor.

" At one time the Count of Carboni had a valet
named Luigi. That this Luigi was of unpria.
cipled character and vindictive disposition, we
know full well. His misdeeds caused him about
eight months back to flee from the service of his
master "

" Describe this man," said the Mayor.

I accordingly drew the most accurate portraiture
of Luigi which words could represent ; and the
Mayor said that he would at once issue the neces.
sary instructions for the arrest of the person cor<
responding with that description, if he should be
found within the town or its neighbourhood. He
accordingly left the room for a few minutes ; and
on his return, he said, " I have given my orders
to the bead constable, who happened to be in my
house when you arrived. But both he and I
agree that it would be better for the ends of
justice to suffer nothing to ooze forth to the pub-
lic in respect to the individual on whom suspicion
fastens itself. The next step for you. Miss Traf-
ford, to take— or it would be better for your friend
the Countess of Carboni to perform this painful
duty — is to identify the corpse of the murdered
man ; because as you only beheld him from a dis-
tance, and through the gloom of the evening, there
is the possibility of an error in reference to this
victim of a foul crime."

" I will communicate to the Countess your
worship's desire," I said ; and I was rising to
take my departure.

"One moment. Miss Trafford !" said the Mayor:
" there is yet something else to be done. Let us
suppose the identilicatiou to be accomplished, and
the fact to be established that it is actually the
Count of Carboni who has perished thus horribly.
It will then be necessary for me to send a trust-
worthy person to the cottage "

"Ah!" I ejaculated; "and if there be any
private papers belonging to the unfortunate
Count — papers which may relate to family mat-
ters "

" The Countess shall at once have possession of
them," replied the Mayor. "But all these steps
must be taken this evening — it were useless for
any delay to arise."

I thanked the Mayor for his courtesy and at-
tention ; and I took my departure with the land-
lord. I returned to the hotel, where I found
Beatrice in a better frame of mind than when I
had left her. She was now calmer and more com-
posed ; and I explained to her everything which
had taken place between the Mayor and myself.
She expressed her deep gratitude for the delicate
manner in which I had glossed over those painful
family incidents to which it had been necessary to
make some slight allusion : but she shrank sbud-
deringly from the idea of gazing upon the corpse
in order to identify it. I however represented
that this was really a duty which she herself must
perform, and which could not be so well accom-
plished by any other person ; for that it was most

natural for a wife, in such painful circumstances,
to identify the remains of a husband.

"Besides, my dear Beatrice," I gently added,
" if you were to refuse to throw one last look upoa
the Count's remains, it would almost seem as if
you cherished a vindictive resentment which fol-
lowed him even beyond the line which separates
life from death !"

Beatrice yielded to my representations ; and in
a few minutes the landlord again entered tho
room. He came this time to inform us that one
of the sailors to whom we had spoken, bad just
called to state that he and his comrade had picked
up the body on the beach at the foot of the cliff,
and that it had been taken to a little public-bouse
at that extremity of Dover which was nearest to
the scene of the tragedy. I saw that a sickening
sensation seized upon the Countess; but I be-
sought her to nerve herself with the fortitude re-
quisite for the accomplishment of the task which
she had now to perform; — and she summoned all
her courage to her aid. The landlord suggested
that the Countess might proceed in a chaise to the
public-house where the corpse lay ; and this pro-
posal was at once accepted. I offered to aocom-
i pany Beatrice to her mournful destination ; and
again did she pour forth her gratitude for the
kindness I was demonstrating towards her.

The chaise was soon in readiness— we entered
it — and it drove rapidly through the streets,
where, by the aid of the gas-lamps, we beheld
many persons conversing together in groups ; so
that it was evident the report of the murder had
already spread like wildfire throughout the town.
When we reached the neighbourhood of the pub-
lic-house, we found a considerable crowd collected
about the door; for though the corpse was
stretched in a room and therefore hidden froox
their view, yet were they under the influence of
that morbid curiosity which always impels persons,
particularly of the uneducated class, to assemblo
and gaze upon the spot where a crime has been
committed, or upon the bouse where its victim ia
lying. The moment the chaise stopped, the at-
tention of the crowd was concentrated upon it to
see who would alight : but a couple of police-con-
stables quickly compelled the assemblage to fall
back sufficiently to enable the chaise to draw
up close to the door of the little public-house.
Beatrice then alighted, and hastened into the
place ; while I remained inside the vehicle, where
I lay back as much as possible to avoid being the
object of the gaze of the curious crowd.

I may here give in a narrative form the brief
details of the Countess of Carboni's visit to tho
public-house, instead of recording them in the
same terms as she subsequently explained them to
me. On crossing the threshold, she was seized
with a faintness and dizziness as if consciousness
were about to abandon her, and her limbs felt as
if they were bending beneath her : but she again
summoned all her fortitude to her aid, and men-
tioned her object to the stout burly landlord of tho
little public-house. It was an establishment of
the most inferior description; so that its dingy
gloomy aspect was but little calculated to diminish
the painful impressions under which the mind of
Beatrice was already labouring. The landlord led
the way along a narrow passage to a place which
from Beatrice's description must have been the

350

ELLEN FKUCT; OB, IBB UEMOIBS OF AH i.CIRE39.

taproom : the tveo sailors who had picked up the
body, followed the Countess and landlord thither ;
and the moment the door was thrown open, an
ominous object was discerned upon the table. A
lantern dimly lighted the room, — which was of
small dimensions, as well as of poor and sordid de-
scription. The corpse was covered by an old cloth
which had been thrown over it ; and as one of the
sailors lifted that cloth, he at the same time raised
the lantern in such a manner that the dim flicker-
ing light was thrown upon the countenance of the
murdered man. That countenance was little in-
jured by the fall from the cliff; but it subsequently
transpired, from the surgical evidence given at the
inquest, that the body and limbs were horribly
mutilated and injured. One glance for Beatrice
was sufficient!— she recognised her husband — it
was indeed the Count of Carboni who had perished
the victim of that horrible deed of assassination !

Beatrice turned away shuddering from the
hideous spectacle ; and she came back to the
chaise in which I was waiting for her. The two
sailors were close at her heels ; for under the pre-
tence of conducting her to the vehicle, they evi-
dently sought to remind us that they were the
individuals who bad performed our bidding and
Lad picked up the corpse. Beatrice was too much
overcome by her harrowed feelings to compre-
hend their meaning : but I hastened to make
them a present of five guineas— and the chaise
drove off. As it passed by the Mayor's residence,
I directed the driver to stop, that I might leave a
message to inform his worship that the corpse had
been identified ; and we then proceeded to the
hotel. It was now late ; and thoroughly ex-
hausted both in mind and body, Beatrice at once
sought her couch. I remained with her until
slumber stole upon her eyes ; and then I repaired
to my own chamber.

We both rose at an early hour in the morning ;
and we were seated at the breakfast-table, discuss-
ing with a lingering sense of horror the incidents
of the preceding evening, when a waiter entered
and delivered a sealed packet to the Countess, ac-
companied by the intimation that the Mayor had
sent it with his respectful compliments. Beatrice
hastened to opeii the packet the instant the waiter
had withdrawn ; and she found that it contained
several private papers belonging to the deceased
Count, but amongst which was a sealed letter ad-
dressed to herself. This address was in the hand-
writing of her husband ; and when she had
perused the document which it contained, she
handed it to me. As nearly as I can now recol-
lect, the contents ran in the following strain : —

" The events which have separated us for ever,
Beatrice, sit so heavily upon my heart, that they
seem to be crushing out the powers of life and
rapidly arresting the vital springs of existence. I
may die suddenly by the breaking of this heart of
mine— or I may perish in the blood of a distracted
suicide. I therefore writa t'lese few lines, to be
delivered to you after my death, whensoever and
howsoever it may happen. There are moments
when I feel as if I must take up my pen to write
and implore that wei may meet once again in this
world, so that I may hear from your lips the repe-
tition of that assurance of forgiveness which in the
month of March last you vouchsafed when I sank

upon my knees before you and besought your
pardon. But whether I shall ever have the
courage to beseech this interview — or whether if I
implored it, you would grant it, I know not 1
Therefore, at all events, I pen these lines, so as to
assure myself that I shall not depart from this
world without having renewed the expression of
that deep affliction- that illimitable despair which
I feel on account of all my horrible and diabolic
conduct towards you !

"I have now something to tell you, Beatrice.
You know that when I resigned to you the great
bulk of my fortune and estates seven or eight
months back, I made an exception in reference to
the domain and chateau of Carboni. In decreeing
this reservation I had more motives than one, la
the first place I conceived that it would be not
merely a flagrant insult, but a transcending out-
rage, to oft'er you that mansion which was the
scene of my odious cruelty and of your ineffable
wretchedness. In the second place I looked upon
the spot as one that was accursed — a spot as com-
pletely under heaven's ban, as if it were the scene
where gibbets are erected for the bleaching bones
of murderers to swing and rattle in the cold night
wind. And in the third place I was anxious that
this spot whereof I am speaking should become
the scene of an action whereby I might testify
more than I had yet done the loathing sense that
I entertain of my past iniquity. Listen therefore
to the deed which I have accomplished for the
furtherance of this aim. Upon parting from you
after I had knelt at your feet and implored your
forgiveness, I gave to a solicitor the requisite in-
structions for the assignment of the great bulk of
my property into your hands ; and I then set out
for Italy. I proceeded to the chateau of Carboni:
I discharged the domestics who were there— I paid
them all liberally — and I watched until the last
had left that mansion which I held to be accursed.
It was the hour of sunset when I found myself
alone there— sunset on an April evening, with the
fresh breeze whispering around me, and wafting
the perfume of the flowers that were folding their
leaves ! Then I piled up quantities of dry wood
in various places — I opened many of the doors and
windows within the chateau to create a draught —
and I set fire to the home of my ancestors. It
was not with a fiendish rage nor with a malignant
gloating that I did this: it was with a profound
remorseful sense of the stupendous crimes which
had led me to the accomplishment of such a cat.is-
trophe. From a little distance I watched the
conflagration. The farmers and peasants on the
domain — the gardeners, the park-keepers, and the
foresters — all hurried to the spot to proffer their
assistance : but I sternly bade them leave the cha-
teau to burn, for it was accursed ! They gazed
upon me with astonishment— they thought that I
was mad : but I cared not. The mansion ap-
peared to my view to be a temple of infamy — the
monument of a horrible crime; and I resolved
that its destruction should be complete. So I
allowed not a single hand to be stretched forth to
prevent the spread of the conflagration : but as
the flames roared and the beams cracked— as all
the splendid furniture was lapped up as it were by
those lambent tongues of flame — I rejoiced ; for I
said within myself, 'It is like the work of a just
retribution !'

" The entire chateau was destroyed. But not
contented with having accomplished this much,
I ordered the blackenea remnants to be removed
elsewhere, the verj foundatiuns to be dug up, and
every brick and stone to he carried oiF. I likei^ise
ordered the neighbouring grovo to be cut down —
the walls of the gardens to be destroyed — the
fences of the park and pleasure-grouuds to be
broken up and burnt. Then 1 commanded the
peasants to come with their teams and tLeir
ploughs, 80 that everj trace of where a mansion
once stood should be obliterated. And I tarried
in that neighbourhood while the work was being
done: with my own eyes did I assure myself that
it was effectually accomplished — until at length as
I stood in the midst of that spot which I had made
a desolation and a waste, I ielt as if I had done a
deed which was calculated to tranquiliise to some
little extent a most uneasy conscience. Then I
went to a notary ; and I ordered him to draw up
a deed by virtue of which I bequeathed the chief
portion of the domain of Carboni to the Convent
of St. Catarina, to be held as an endowment for
the dwelling of the Holy Sisters on condition that
the three hundred acres of land which had just
been ploughed up, should for ever be left uncul-
tivated, to remain a desolation and a waste, or to
become a wilderness. All this have I done, Bea-
trice ! The chateau of Carboni has ceased to exist ;
and the traveller who may now roam through that
domain, will not so much as tread upon a single
stone belonging to that once stately pile.

" Oh ! would that I had the courage to seek
jou, if only for a few moments, that I might tell
you by words uttered from the lip, how I went
step by step through all the details which 1 have
been describing on this paper ! I feel that I could
impart to a verbal description an energy and a
power which into the mere written language it is
impossible to infuse. But I dare not present mj-
self before you at the home of your sister and
brother-in-law ; and therefore if aoxtte day, obedient
to a sudden impulse, I shall resolve upon making
the endeavour to see you, it must be by mean ^ of an
earnest entreaty that you will come to me, if only
for a few minutes. For I am now in (bis seeluded
cottage

" Yet how foolish and absurd for me to con-
tinue thus, as if what I am now committing to
paper were to be read by you to-day or to-morrow'
and as if it were not intended that this document
is to be read by you only after my death ! Ob,
Beatrice ! there are times when I feel as if I were
going mad ! — times when toy brain is aching and
throbbing as if it were about to burst, in awful
companionship with that heart which seems ready
to burst likewise!

" Oh ! may you be happy ! — may Leaven in its
mercy mitigate the keen sense of the wrongs you
have experienced and the sufferings you have en-
dured ! You are still young— still beautiful; and
you possess great riches. I shall not be much
longer in this world. To think of living years
were madness ! — a few months or weeks, or per-
haps days, will terminate my existence. Then,
Beatrice, think how you may re-enter upon the
path of happiness— study to turn your steps into
some route that is bordered with flowers— and let
not the recollection of the past embitter the pre-
sent or the future. If one so criminal as I, dared

to brearhe blessings, I would bless thee ; —and in
my heart 1 do so, though I dare not to this piper
commit those solemn and sacred invocations. Yet
believe me, Baatrice, when I shall have gone hence
— when I shall have passed from the limits of an
earthl0 sphere to the illimitable range of a celes-
tial one, — if there, in those regions which lie
beyond the grave, my spirit shall be purified and
my soul lifted into the mansions of the Eternal, I
will become to thee in another world your good
genius,— I who have been youf evil one in this!"

Thus terminated the strange wild document, to
which neither address nor date nor name was af-
fixed. But I felt assured that it bad not been
written many days ; for only three weeks had
elapsed since the unfortunate Count of Carboni
took up his abode at the cottage ; and at that
cottage the paper was evidently written. 1 men-
tioned this fact to Beatrice, who had remained
plunged in profound and mournful thought while
I was perusing the document ;, and she said in a
low tremulous voice, '•' You see, my dear Ellen,
that his heart was yearning to obtain a last inter-
view with me; and would to G-jd that we had
met ! —for if he had spoken as passionately and as
feelingly as he has there written, I should have
proclaimed my forgiveness with far more fervour
and sincerity than I promised it on the occasion
when you brought him to kneel at my feet in
London 1"

" And now, Beatrice," I said, " 1 must remind
you of a duty which you have to perform. The
corpse will remain where it now lies, until after
the Coroner shall have holden his inquest — which
will doubtless be in the course of this day "

" I understand you, Ellen," interrupted the
Countess of Carboni : " it is for me to superintend
the obsequies of the deceased. Y'es- 1 will do so !
But now let us at once despatch a courier to my
sister and her husband, to tell them all that has
occurred. And I will enclose this document ; for
after the perusal of it, the Marquis of Campanella
may not perhaps be disinclined to pay the last sad
office to the deceased and accompany his remains
to the tomb."

The courier was despatched accordingly ; and
scarcely was this duty accomplished, when the
Mavor of Dover was announced.

CHAPIEE LXI.

THE PISB-HEAB.

Thb Mayor came to inform ufl that not the
slightest trace had been obtained of Luigi ; nor
Could it be ascertained that any person at all an-
swering to his description had been in Dover. A
clever officer had visited all the hotels, public-
houses, and lodging-houses, for the purpose of in-
stituting inquiries: but nothing could be learnt of
the supposed assassin. The Mayor had seen the
Coroner, who intended to hold the inquest at two
o'clock in the afternoon of that same day ; and his
worship signified to us that our presence as wit-
nesses would be required. For this announcement
we were fully prepared ; and we promised to at-
tend accordingly.

When the Mayor had taken his departure— it

being now about eleven in the forenoon — Beatrice
intimated her intention of retiring to her own
chamber for an hour or two, that ehe might be
alone with her thoughts, and that she might have
suitable leisure to compose and collect herself for
the ordeal of an examination at the inquea^. She
retired accordingly ; and I was now the mistress of
my own time for two or three hours. Much as I
disliked the idea of attending to any matter of
business as an interlude amidst the sad circum-
stances which had arisen, I nevertheless remem-
bered the necessity of keeping Mary Glentworth's
interests in view ; and I could not delay the mea-
sure which had brought me to Dover. My time
there was short— and the Duke of Ardleigh might
possibly leave more speedily than be had antici-
cipated when he wrote to me, for I felt assured
that be was completely subservient to the good-
will and pleasure of his haughty Duchess.

In that note which his Grace bad written to
me, he had intimated his intention of walking
every day at the end of the pier from eleven till
one o'clock, so that on arriving at Dover I might
know how and where to find him. I was confi-
dent that be would be upon the pier on this parti-
cular day ; for rumour could not have failed to waft
to his ears the intelligence of the murder of the
Count of Carboni and the fact that I had been a
witness of the scene — consequently that I was in
Dover. I now dressed myself very plainly, put
on s thick veil, and issued from the hotel. I was
Boon upon the pier ; and at the end of it I beheld
the Duke of Ardleigb, looking through a spy- glass,
which a sailor who was standing by had lent him.
It fortunately happened that no other persons,
beyond another lounging sailor or two, were on
the pier-head at the time ; and I prepared to ac-
cost bis Grace.

" Well, my good man," he was saying at the
mament, " you tell me it is only three-and-twenty
miles across from Dover to Calais : but I insist
that it is thirty. I know something of those
matters, I flatter myself ; for I have an uncle who
is one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and a cousin
who is a Post Captain. Besides, Feaseblossom

——that is the name of a friend of mine has

a brother who is lieutenant of a coast-guard

station 1 procured him the appointment

and one of her Grace's lady's-maids is going to be
married to the mate of an East Indiaman. So
you see, my good fellow, I cannot be quite so
ignorant of nautical matters as you seem to sup-
pose Ah ! is it possible ? Yes, it must be !

Miss Trafford, how do you do ? "

The old weather-beaten sailor gave a grunt and
j shrugged his shoulders at the jargon which the
Duke of Ardleigh had been addressing to him :
but the high rank of this personage was evidently
unknown to the man ; for as he turned towards
another ancient mariner even more weatherbeaten
than himself, I overheard him say, " What d'ye
think, Jack ? that queer-looking little man tells
me as how I don't know bow far it be across to
Calais harbour !"

The Duke himself did not however catch this
observation so little flattering to himself; for ha
was all in a nervous hurry to learn what I had to
say to him.

"Come here. Miss Trafford!" he said; "pray
come here ! We can look over the pier and pre-

tend to be watching those sea-weeds, while we

converse; and there is no fear of interruption

for I have set Peaseblossom to watch — and if the
Duchess should take it into her head to walk out
and come this way, he will rush off and let us

know unless indeed he falls asleep or gets

playing on one of my violins."

" And if the Duchess should come this way, my
lord," I said coldly, " it will perhaps be all the
better ; for as her Grace is acquainted with the
secret of your poor daughter's birth, she might
well be admitted into our conference."

"A pretty thing indeed," exclaimed the Duke,
gazing around him in consternation, " after she
has insisted that I should never allude to the girl
in her hearing, and that Mary shall never know
her real parentage ! Ah, her Grace led me a ter-
rible time of it, I can tell you, after that scene at
the cottage "

"But Mary must know her parentage, my
lord !" I interjected : " the secret cannot be con-
cealed from her ! She saw your Grace the other
day in London "

" But now we are going on the Continent for
the winter — I shall be several months absent — the
secret can be kept during that time — and a thou-
sand things may turn up ! The Duchess might
die — and then I shall be my own master : she may
be killed by banditti, or carried ofif by the malaria
of the marshes near Rome. Or Mary herself may
die "

" Good heavens, my lord !" I exclaimed, shocked
and disgusted at the ideas to which he was giving
utterance, as well as irritated by the frivolity
which marked the whole tenour of his discourse;
" you speculate upon the deaths of your wife and
your daughter !"

" And why not ?" demanded the Duke : " they
are mortal— are they not? Why, if it wern't for
such speculations, how should we ever have had
tontines, or life-insurance companies, or post-obit
bonds, or many of the other blessings of civiliza-
tion ? Speculate indeed ! Why I am very for-
tunate in speculation — particularly when it is at a
round game at cards "

"My lord," I said severely and resolutely, "I
am not here to listen to these triflings. My mind
is not in a state "

" No— to be sure ! I forgot !" ejaculated the
Duke, flying ofi^ at a tangent to another subject.
" You saw it all ? Tell me what it looked like.
I never saw but one murder — and that was on the
stage— so it was really no murder at all."

" My lord," I said, again speaking with severity,
" I beg that you will at once return to the busi-
ness for which I have consented to meet you here.
And I beg your Grace to observe that nothing but
the deep interest which I experience in your
amiable and innocent daughter Mary Glentworth,
could have induced me to take such a step."

'• Weil, it is indeed very kind of you," said the
Duke : " but really I am at a loss what to do.
You literally push me into a corner ! I wish
Peaseblossom was here !"

" Now listen, my lord," I said, determined to
bring the nobleman to the point. " Mary knows
you only by the name of Mr. Glentworth — and
she looks upon you as her uncle. She naturally
believes that it is her duty to call upon you : she
is anxious to discover your addr^s ; and since sht

ELLEN PEECX; OK, THE MEMOIES OJ AN ''ACXEBSS.

353

THE DUCHESS OF ARDLEIGH.

has seen you in your carriage, she is rejoiced be-
cause she knows you to be very rich. If you will
not suffer the secret of her birth to be revealed to
her "

" Ah ! we are lost ! we are undone !" suddenly
exclaimed the Duke. " That precious old owl
Peaseblossom must have fallen asleep — for here is
the Duchess !"

And sure enough, there was the Duchess of
Ardleigh, accompanied by a little daughter — a girl
of about eleven years old — and followed at a short
distance by the governess, who had charge of two
of their Graces' children, who were still younger
than the one walking with the mother.
No. 45.— Ellen Pekct.

Those who are acquainted with the pier-head at
Dover, are aware that in the middle of the plat*
form stands a little circular house, made of wood,
about a dozen feet in diameter, and surmounted
by a signal-post. The instant the Duke had given
vent to those ejaculations, he rushed towards this
little house so as to place it betwixt himself and
the Duchess ; and in proportion as her Grace ad-
vanced nearer and nearer towards the extremity
of the pier, the Duke kept working his way round
the house so as constantly to make it a shield be-
tween himself and his wife. If I had not been
low-spirited and harassed by the teriiQc ciircum-
stances of the preceding evening, as well as dis-

354

ELLBN PERCY; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTBESS,

tressed on Mary Glentworth's account, and like-
wise annoyed at the mingled heartlessness and
frivolity which the Duke had displayed, I could
have laughed at the ludicrousness of this scene.
I remained where I was, leaning against the para-
pet of the pier, precisely on the spot where the
Duke had left me ; I did not take the trouble to
utter a syllable of remonstrance at the absurd
•course which he was adopting — for toy mind was
now fully made up how to act.

The Duchess was speedily withiii a few yards
of me : I at once saw by her looks that she had
noticed her husband, and that she was of course
smitten with a jealous suspicion on finding that he
had been talking with a lady from whom he had
suddenly run away as if with an air of guilty con-
sciousness. My veil was closely folded over my
countenance, so that the Duchess of Ardleigh
could not immediately recognise me : but I drew
it up — saluted her with a mingled courtesy and
respect— and said, " His Grace has only this in-
stant left me."

The Duchess looked astonished, and evidently
knew not what to think or what to say. But
suddenly, without giving utterance to a word, she
passed behind the little house; and then I heard
her voice exclaiming, " My lord, be so kind as to
come hither— I wish to speak to you."

The Duchess then returned towards the spot
where I remained standing ; and her little daugh-
ter exclaimed, " Mamma, why wos papa running
away ?"

" Oh, my dear, it was only your papa's joke,"
replied the Duchess, evidently not choosing to
suffer her children or the governess to eupect that
there was anything amiss,

"Ah, iriydear! is that you?" said the Duke,
now coming forward from behind the little house,
and endeavouring to smile as it with cheerfulness.
" Well, I really did not see you ! Why, Miss
Trafford ! how do you do ?"— and he addressed me
as if we were just meeting for the first time on
the present occasiori.

" Go with Mademoiselle Durand, rhy dear,"
said the Duchess, thus speaking to her little
daughter, and alludin* to the French governess :
then, so soon as Mademoiselle Durand and the
children were beyond ear- shot, her Grace looked at
me as-if to imply that she was awaiting explana-
tions.

" For my own sake, my lord," I said, " I am
compelled to take this step :"— and I handed the
Duchess the letter which the Duke had written to
me, and in which he besought me to come to
Dover to confer with him privately in respect to
Mary Glent worth.

The Duchess took the letter, and began to read
it. At the very moment I had placed it in her
hands, I glanced towards the Duke, — who had now
got just behind his wife, and who was making all
Borts of faces and contortions to prevent mo from
giving her Grace the document. But I immedi-
ately averted my looks, and waited with a calm
confideuce until the Duchess had finished its pe-
rusal.

" So Miss Glentworth is now residing with you
at Mr. Norman's house. Miss Trafford ?" said the
Duchess; and she spoke to me with as much afla-
bility as the natural hauteur of her disposition
would at any time allow her to adopt f for the

contents of the letter were sufficient to show the
reason for which the Duke and myself had met at
the end of the pier.

" I am distressed," I said, " to find myself com-
pelled to violate the sanctity of correspondence by
placing his lordship's letter in the hands of your
Grace : but for my own sake I had no alternative.
If I find myself dragged by circumstances into
these unpleasant affairs -"

"No one can blame you, Miss Trafford," inter-
jected the Duchess. "This letter proves every-
thing, and shows that you in the first instance
haa written to explain to the Duke how unplea-
santly he might some day find himself situated in
London if Mary Glentworth should meet him, and
regarding him as her uncle — plain Mr. Glentworth
— should address him as such."

"Your Grace can easily understand," I said,
" that Mary is anxious to visit one whom she be-
lieves to be her uncle———"-

"Yes— it is all intelligible enough!" exclaimed
the Duchess; "and you have a difficult part to
play. But I have sworn that if ever the secret of
my husband's grosS profligacy should transpire, I
will separate from hina. Such an exposure to the
'world would be terrible for our children's sake !"

" Of course it would, my dear," said the Duke,
rubbing his hands nervously : " and there-
fore "

"Silence, my lord!" ejaculated the Duchess:
then turning to me, she said, " ti it really your
wish, Miss Trafford, that the secret of Mary's
birth should be made known to her ?"

"Heaven forbid, my lady, if it be possible to
conceal it !" 1 at once answered. " Miss Glent-
worth is a good, artless, and innocent girl : she
believes that her mother was virliiotis — and it
would shock her infinitely if she were compelled
to look upon that patent as one who was a dis-
honoured woman. But still something must be
done to set her mind at rest, and to relieve me
from the embarrasstnent of listening to her ques-
tions and entreaties: for already she suspecfs that
there is something which is unknown to her, but
of which I have a full knowledge."

" For your sake. Miss Trafford," rejoined the
Duchess, " i could wish that something might be
done iii this matter : but I am bound utterly to
igiiore the existence of any such person as Mary
Glentworth :— and if I have now so far controlled
my feelings as to speak of her for a few minutes,
it has been through courtesy towards you. Now
let the subject drop ! The Duke must act as he
thinks fit in the matter : but I swear that if ever
his immoral amour with the late Mrs. Glentworth
transpires "

" Hold, my lady !" I interrupted her : " I be-
seech you not to leave me in this cruel embar-
rassment— which I feel all the more acutely on
account of that amiable girl, whom I shall know
not how to answer the nest time she questions
me relative to her supposed uncle !"

" I am sorry for you, Miss Trafford," responded
the Duchess, kindly but firmly. " I am all the
more sorry too," she continued, in a still gentler
voice, "because I know how much your feelings
must have been harrowed by the terrible incidents
of last night. But I have a duty to pertorm as a
wife and as a mother : I have my own pride to
consult In short, I have already been too for-

ELLEN PEBCT; OK, THE JTETrlOIES OP AN ACTRESS,

355

beariog in the face of the discovery of my hus-
band's infidelity and wickedness. You will excuse
me. Miss TrafFord, for now wishing you good
morning. You will come with me, my lord."

Having thus spoken, the Duchess bowed with
sufficient graciousness; and she was turning away,
followed by her miserable coward of a husband,
when a sudden thought struck mo

" One word, my lady I" I exclaimed, — " and
only one word ! Permit me to speak apart with
your Grace for a few moments."

"• Certainly," answered the Duchess : and
making a signal for her husband to stand aside,
she walked with me to a short distance.

" Your G-race may perhaps remember," I said,
" that about a twelvemonth back, when I had an
interview with you in respect to your son the
Marquis of Dalrymple, you were pleased to ex-
press yourself so satisfied with ray conduct that
you bade me at any future period appeal to your
friendship with the certainty of obtaining at your
bands whatsoever boon I might ask. You more-
over said that though it was unlikely I should
ever be in a position to make such an appeal, yet
that still the circumstanco might arise, and that
you should hold yourself bound to fulfil your
pledge."

" All that you have stated. Miss Trafibrd, is.
perfectly true," said the Duchess : " you have me
therefore to a certain extent in your power : but
I beseech you to use that power leniently."

"Your Grace knows what my request is," I an-
swered, " Let something be done to set Mary
Glcntworth'a mind at rest— I care not what— in-
deed I scarcely know what to suggest but

still something imist be done I"

" Can you not devise some excuse to curb her
impatience for a few months ?" asked the Duchess ;
" and on my return to England from the Conti-
nent, one of my first considerations shall be bow
this unpleasant afi'air may best be settled."

" I myself will devise no excuses," I responded.
" I would not give utterance to a falsehood for my
own sake ; and therefore it were unreasonable to
expect that I should become a deceiver for the
sake of ot-hers."

The Duchess bit her lip : her proud disposition
was eviiiently chafed bitterly by the answer I had
just addressed to her ; and I felt convinced there
was a moment when she was about to cut our in-
terview short in some haughty and indignant
manner. But curbing her resentment, she said,
" "Will you leave it to me, Miss TrafFord, to
manage this business?— and I pledge myself that
it shall be settled in such a vfay as to relieve you
from the importunities of Miss Glentwortb."

" And likewise in such a way," I added, " that
whatsoever step your ladyship takes, that poor

girl's feelings "

" Tliey shall not be wounded — much less out-
raged," interjected the Duchess. "Tlie course I
purpose to adopt is simply to set her mind nt rest
during the period that I shall be absent with my
family on the Continent; and when we return to
England, I will again give the subject my consi-
deration."

" "With this understanding I am satisfied," 1
answered.

The Duchess then again bowed and Uft me.
She was rejoined by her husband, who followed

her as if he were a schoolboy detected in the
midst of some mischief, and being led home by the
schoolmistress to receive the dreaded application
of the birch.

I remained for a little while longer at the end
of the pier, until the ducal party wf 3 no longer in
view ; and I then returned to my hotel, I can-
not say that I was completely satisfied with the
issue of my appeal on behalf of Mary Glentwortb,
— especially as I was more or less in the dark in
reference to the plan which the Duchess of Avd-
leigh had determined to pursue : but I was obliged
to console myself with the thought that I had
done as much as I could — that the affair was of a
very delicate nature— that there were the feelings
of more than one person to bo consulted in the
matter— and that therefore I could not expect to
wield the power of arbitrary dictation.

When I reached the hotel and ascended to the
sitting-room, I found that Beatrice was still in her
own chamber ; and as the hour was approaching at
which the Coroner's inquest was to be held, I was
about to proceed to her room and remind her
thereof, when she made her appearance. She was
now calm and collected, and evidently nerved for
the ordeal. The landlord had already ascertained
that the Coroner and jury were to sit at a
superior kind of tavern in the neighbourhood of
the little public-house where the corpse lay, — an
arrangement which was doubtless made at the
suggestion of the Mayor, and through deference to
the feeliuga of the Countess herself. We pro-
ceeded in a chaise to the tavern, where we were at
once conducted to a private room. Beatrice sus-
tained her fortitude ; and I likewise did my best
to conquer my repugnance to the idea of becoming
a witness in such a case. I was summoned first to
the apartment where the Coroner and jury satj
and I understood the delicacy of this proceeding.
It was another means of sparing the feelings of
the Countess as much as possible, by eliciting all
the main particulars from my lips, and thereby
rendering her examination as brief as it could be
made. I gave the Coroner precisely the same in-
formation which I had already given to the
Mayor j and I was particularly cautious in stating
the grounds upon which Beatrice and myself based
our suspicions in respect to Luigi. '

" If any gentleman be present, taking notes for
the •ublic press," said the Coroner, "I beg to ob-
serve that the ends of justice may perhaps be
better served if the fact be altogether suppressed
that suspicion thus attaches itself to a particular
individual. If the assassin bo really this Italian
valfit of whom the witness has just spoken, he will
of course watch the newspapers ; and he will either
or not take care to hide himself just as he may
see how circumstances are progressing. A de-
scription of his person has already been privately
sent to the metropolis, whence it will be forwarded
to the heads of the local constabulary throughout
the country."

There was a reporter present j and he at ones
signified his readiness to comply with the sugges-
tions of the Curoner. My examination being
over, I withdrew from the apartment where the
inquisition was being held ; and returning to the
roum in which I had left Beatrice, I infornjed her
that her presence would merely be needed for the
corroboration of my evidence, and that eke might

356

ELLEN PEECr; OE, THE ilEilOIES 03? AN ACIKESS.

depose to the identification of the deceased as her
husband. Her nerves were strengthened by this
assurance ; and she proceeded to the inquest -room.
There she was not detained many minutes,— the
Coroner and the jury considerately sparing her
feelings as much as possible. It was nevertheless
an infinite relief to her when the ordeal was past
and we returned together to our own hotel. The
jury returned a verdict of " Wilful Murder;" and
Beatrice sent for an undertaker, to whom she gave
full instructions in respect to the funeral.

I again left her at the hotel for two or three
hours, while I proceeded to call at Eiver House.
There I was most cordially welcomed by my friend
Juliet ; and her husband received me with an air
of friendly frankness, as if he felt that he could
now look me in the face with confidence as he
knew that he was performing his duty towards his
wife, and that Juliet herself would tell me the
same when we should be alone together. They
already knew that I must be at Dover from the
report which had reached their ears in reference
to the murder ; and therefore Juliet had been
anxiously expecting my presence. I gave them
the full particulars of the horrible occurrence ; and
both expressed much sympathy on account of the
agitation and excitement which I must have ex-
perienced. When I found myself alone with Lady
Frederick Eavenscliflfe, she assured me that her
husband continued to treat her with the utmost
kindness — that he manifested no impatience at the
secluded life they were leading — but on the con-
trary, that he appeared to prefer it. He had re-
ceived no answer from his parents, the Earl and
Countess of Carshalton, to the letter which he had
written informing them of his marriage ; and he
therefore supposed that it would be a work of time
to obtain their forgiveness for the step which he
had taken. Juliet further informed me that the
solicitor whom the late Mrs. Oldcastle had nomi-
nated joint executor with Mr. Norman, had gone
up to London on the preceding day, to put the
business in a train for prompt settlement, and that
therefore the various legacies would be almost im-
mediately paid.

Having passed about three hours at Eiver
House, I took leave of Lord and Lady Frederick
EavensclifFe, and returned to the hotel at Dover.
My engagements at the theatre required that I
should leave on the following day : but I could
not think of abandoning the Countess of Carboni
at a time when her nerves had been so painfully
acted upon. She however assured me that she
had no doubt the Marquis of Campanella, and
perhaps the Marchioness herself, would make all
haste to join her at Dover under existing circum-
stances ; and she besought me not to disturb my
own arrangements on her account, I said in
reply that we would see what the morrow brought
forth; and that I would shape my course accord-
ingly. Be it recollected that a courier had been
sent off in the morning to the Marquis of Cam-
panella in London; and that messenger might
reach the metropolis by the middle of the day.
And he did so, as the event transpired; for at
about eleven o'clock at night, just as Beatrice and
I were separating to retire to our respective cham-
bers, the Marquis and Marchioness of Campanella
arrived at the hotel.

I was therefore enabled to leave Dover on the

following morning; and in the afternoon I was
once again in Hunter Street. I will pass over all
the explanations which I had to give in reference
to the fearful tragedy ; and I will proceed to re-
late something which regarded my friend Mary
Grlentworth, and which will explain the plan that
the Duchess of Ardleigh had decided upon adopt-
ing in order to tranquillize Mary's mind for a few
months, until the return of her Grace from the
Continent should enable her to give the matter her
further consideration.

When Mary and I had an opportunity of
being alone together, she said, " My dear Ellen,
I have this day received a visit from my uncle's
solicitor."

" Indeed !" I ejaculated, anxious to learn what
was to follow.

" Yes," continued Mary Grlentworth ; " hero is
his card — Mr. Wilkinson, of Furnival's Inn. He
told me that my uncle, on making inquiries con-
cerning me, learnt that I had left Eiver House in
consequence of the death of Mrs. Oldcastle, and
that 1 was now residing here. He went on to say
that my uncle was suddenly compelled to leave
England on pressing business, which might detain
him for some months abroad; and that he had
therefore sent me the sum of two hundred guineas
to meet my expenses during his absence. But I
told Mr. Wilkinson that I did not require the
money, as Mrs. Oldcastle had left me a legacy of
five hundred pounds, which I should very shortly
receive. Mr. Wilkinson however insisted upon
my taking the money which he offered me on my
uncle's account ; and I have therefore done so. I
asked the lawyer where my uncle's house was
situated P— but he told me that Mr. Grlentworth
had just given up the residence which he had oc-
cupied somewhere at the West End of the town,
and that on his return from the Continent I
should be made acquainted with his new abode,
wheresoever he might fix it. As for the money,
I begged Mr. iN^orman to take care of it for me :
but he bade me keep it until your return, as you
would advise me how to lay it out. Oh ! I am so
glad, Ellen, that I have at length heard something
relative to my uncle : for to tell you the truth, I
was almost convinced in my own mind that there
was a mystery——"

"And now your mind is at ease, my dear
Mary," I said: but I thought within myself,
" Poor girl ! you must sooner or later learn the
actual truth ; and your sublime confidence in the
purity of your deceased mother will be doomed to
sustain a fearful shock !"

However, I was glad that the evil day was
postponed ; and I could not help admiring the
plan which the Duchess had adopted to effect this
procrastination : for it was characterized alike by
delicacy and generosity. I had no doubt that Mr.
Wilkinson was the solicitor of the Ardleigh family,
and that he had received explicit instructions hoir
to act in the case.

" With regard to that money, my dear Ellen,"
continued Mary, " I must insist upon Mr. Nor-
man taking it— I cannot live here as a mere
guest "

" You are my guest for the present, Mary," I
said : " and the friendship which subsists between
us, must impel you to consider yourself so. When
you receive your legacy, you will have seven hun-

ELLEK PEBCT; OH, THE MKM0IE3 OF AX ACTEE33.

357

dred pounds altogether ; and this amount will be
bought into the funds in your name, to be avail-
able for any future requirement that you may
have. So no more, I beseech you, upon this sub>
ject !"

The Dover solicitor, acting conjointly with Mr.
Norman, soon terminated the business ; and the
legacies were paid. Mary Glentworth's money
was disposed of as I had suggested ; and I availed
myself of my own legacy of three thousand
pounds to render my father independent of peri-
odical calls upon my purse. I had some difficulty
in effecting this object, inasmuch as for a long
time he absolutely refused to alter his pecuniary
position towards me : but I begged and entreated
that he would accept the amount, and therewith
purchase an annuity, so that he might secure to
himself a good income. Finally the matter was
thus arranged; and I was rejoiced at my ability
to place my sire in the possession of a comfortable
independence.

CHAPTER LXir.

AGAIN AT LEBDS!

Two months passed away from the date of the
incidents which I have been relating : it was now
the Christmas season — and the year 1841 was
drawing towards its close.

During those two months I occasionally saw
Zarah— or I ought rather to call her the wife of
the Eight Honourable Edwin St. Clair ; and every
time she informed me that she and her husband
were still living on the same terms as at first —
maintaining all outward appearances, but pri-
vately keeping up as it were a constant struggle
with each other. Yet Zarah was happy— or at
least contented enough with her lot : she was sur-
rounded by adulations and fiatteries on the part of
those who worshipped her husband's ascending
star : and as she felt confident that her own spirit
would never be broken by his treatment, she hoped
that in process of time he would become wearied
of waging a tacit warfare against her.

Lady CeciliaUrban bestowed her hand, about this
time upon the Earl of Belgrave— a young nobleman
of great wealth, of unimpeachable character, and
of considerable political promise. Her ladyship did
not forgot me in the distribution of the bridal
tokens; and an affectionately written billet gave
me the assurance that she should always remem-
ber me with friendship and gratitude. Melissa
Harrison had altogether withdrawn from the stage,
and was living in splendid style under the protec-
tion of the Marquis of Tynedale, — a piece of intel-
ligence which I received from my father. In has-
tily summing up these little matters, I must not
forget to mention that I frequently saw the Mar-
quis of Dalrymple in his private box at the the-
atre : for this young nobleman had not accompa-
nied his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Ard-
leigh, to the Continent.

it was now, as I have said, the Christmas sea-
son; and I had a holiday for about three weeks.
X was determined to avail myself of the leisure
which I could thus command, to carry out my
idea of making all requisite reparations to the
house at Leeds. I had told the Normans and

Mary Glentworth that Mr. Parks had assigned
this property to me : but I did not enter into any
further particulars with respect to the immense
bulk of my deceased grandsire's fortune of which
I had been so grossly defrauded. My father had
agreed to accompany me to Leeds : but at the
very time when the commencement of the Christ-
mas vacation afforded me the opportunity of pro-
ceeding thither, he met with an accident, which
though threatening no serious consequences, ne-
vertheless prevented him from leaving his resi-
dence at Forest Hill. This was a violent spraia
of the ankle; and therefore he found himself
unable to accompany me. I offered to postpone
my visit to the north ; but as I had previously
set my mind on it, he insisted that I should
accomplish it. I yielded to his wish ; and made
my preparations for the journey.

Beda only was to accompany me ; and we set
off. It was late at night when we reached Leeds;
and we took up our quarters at the best hotel in
the town. - When alone in my chamber, I could
not help reflecting with much emotion upon the
difference of my position on my return to Leeds
on this present occasion, from what it was when I
bad left it exactly seven years back. Then I was
utterly dependent on the housekeeper of my de-
ceased grandfather— uncertain of what my future
would be— and very far from foreseeing that I was
destined to rise to eminence as well as to wealth
in the pursuit of any particular avocation. Yet
so it was ! At the age of twelve and a half I had
one day been borne away from Leeds by Mrs.
Parks, to finish my education in the metropolis :
and now, at the age of nineteen and a half, I re-
turned to this same town of Leeds with an esta-
blished reputation and able to gain two thousand
a year by my profession ! Yet my career upon
the stage had only extended over a period of about
twenty months ; and all this had I done for myself
in that comparatively short interval ! I was now
again at Leeds;— and everything which had taken
place during the seven years of my absence there-
from, wore the aspect of a wild and wondrous
dream.

After breakfast on the following morning I
walked out alone to visit the house in which all
the earliest years of my life had been passed. I
did not take Beda with me ; for I felt assured
that when crossing the threshold of that edifice I
should become the prey of many emotions — and I
chose not that any one should witness them. la
about ten minutes I reached the street in which
the house was situated. But besides that house
and all its associations, there was something else
in my memory ; and this was the image of Mrs.
Kelly, the worthy old schoolmistress who had beea
so kind to me in my juvenile days. I had often
thought of her: — on several occasions I had made
up my mind to write from London and ascertaia
if she were still living — but sjmething had always
transpired to prevent me from fulfilling my inten-
tion. Now, as I entered the street where the old
lady had dwelt, I was smitten by a feeling which
savoured of remorse; for it struck me that I had
been ungrateful and neglectful towards one who
in past times was a good friend to me.

" I will inquire after her," I said to myself,
"before I proceed to the houso which is noir my
own."

358

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTKES8.

It was with a palpitating heart and with a son-
Bation of rising emotions in my throat, that I drew
near the little habitation which the dame had oc-
cupied, and where I had received the elements
of education. As I approached the house, it
seemed not to be in any way changed from what
it formerly was : it had the same strange admix-
ture of dinginess and neatness in its appearance,
— dinginess with regard to the red- brick frontage,
and neatness in respect to the window draperies.

" Perhaps she is still alive," I said to myself, —
" still residing here— still keeping a seminary ?"

At that moment a neatly-dressed girl, having
the air of a tradesman's daughter, and carrying a
school-bag in her hand, passed me hurriedly. My
heart palpitated still more forcibly, as with my
eyes I followed her to watch whither she was
going. Ah ! she stopped at the door of the little
house towards which I also was bending my way
—she opened that door and entered. It was a
school, then !— but did Mrs. Kelly still keep it ? I
advanced to the door — I knocked — and in a few
moments it was opened by the very school girl
whom I had first seen enter.

" Does Mrs. Kelly reside here P" I inquired ; and
my voice fell in tremulous vibrations upon my own
ears.

" Yes, ma'am," was the girl's response. " Will
you please to walk in."

I entered— I advanced into the school- room
—and the look which I at once threw around,
made me doubt whether I had not been dreaming
of the lapse of years, and whether I were not
veritably a school-girl still ! Nothing seemed al-
tered in that room. There were the same pictures
(chiefly prints of churches) hanging to the walls :
there was the array of forms, accommodating some
dozen of neatly dressed girls : there was a great
tortoise-shell cat lying upon the rug before the
fire ; and there in her easy-chair, at the little table
which served her as a desk, sat the dame herself.
She was apparelled in precisely the same style
which I had ever associated with her image, — a
black silk gown, her mittens, and the widow's cap
that sha had worn ever since her husband's death
long years ago. But her hair, which was only
grey when last I had seen her, was now quite
white; and she wore spectacles. Yes — there was
Mrs. Keliy, still alive — still evidently in comfort-
able circumstances— and still pursuing her scho-
lastic avocations !

She doubtless thought that I was some one who
had come to speak to her on professional business;
for she rose, saluted me with respectful courtesy,
and begged me to be seated. A few of my readers
may perhaps think that I was very foolish— but
there are many who will comprehend the feelings
which influenced me, when I turned aside from
the chair which the dame indicated and sat down
upon the front form, in the very place which used
to be mine when I attended that setainarj ! Then
I could not restrain myself: the tears were trick-
ling from my eyes— and I held my kerchief to my
face.

" Oh, I know you nowj my dear girl ! I recol-
lect you !" exclaimed Mrs. Kelly, hastening for-
ward. " You are Ellen Percy, whom I always
loved and of whom I have often and often
thought!"

The nest moment I was folded in the dame's

arms, and was weeping upon her bosom. Some
minutes elapsed before either of us could suffi-
ciently conquer our feelings to give utterance to a
word. Mrs. Kelly was the first to recover her
self possession ; and she said, '•' Go into the other
room, girls — and amuse yourselves for the pre-
sent."

" Or rather," I faltered forth, " let them have
a holiday, my dear Mrs. Kelly — and here is some-
thing which if distributed amongst them, will
enable them to enjoy it. They will then remem-
ber what I am now telling them— that Ellen Percy
was once a pupil of your's, and that she never
thinks of you otherwise than with love and grati-
tude !"

With these words I placed a sovereign in the
hands of the eldest girl, who happened to be
the very one that I had seen arriving late at the
school, and who had afterwards opened the front
door for me. The joy and surprise of the young
folks may readily be imagined at this proceeding
on my part ; and they crowded around me to ex-
press their gratitude. The dame at once assented
to my request that they should have a whole holi-
day ; and the school room was speedily cleared.

"And now, my dear Ellen," said Mrs. Kelly,—
"for Ellen you must permit me to call you—
though 1 see that you are a young lady "

"Yes— always call me Ellen!" I exclaimed,
once more embracing her.

"You are rich — you are evidently well-to-do in
the world — and I am rejoiced at it !" she con-
tinued. "Perhaps, then, it was all false — that
rumour which somehow or another reached my
ears, that when Mrs. Parks died she left you
nothing, but everything to her son ?"

" That rumour was all true, my dear "friend," I
responded : " and whatsoever I am now possessed
of— with the single exception of my grandfather's
house — I have acquired by my own industry."

" I am delighted to hear it !" cried the dame.
"But are you married, Ellen?"

" No," I rejoined, blushing for a moment : then
frankly raising my countenance, I added, " From
2/ou, my dear friend, I aan have no secrets. I am
engaged to my cousin Harry Wakefield— you re-
member him perhaps "

" Yes, I remember him— and your dear aunt
likewise," ejaculated Mrs. Kelly. " Ah ! I was
sadly grieved when I noticed her death in the
newspaper. As well as possible do I recollect-
yes, as well as if it were only yesterday — and yet
it must be nearly ten years ago— and you yourself
were only ten at the time— your aunt called with
you— she sat in that very chair — you were in the
window-recess- and she spoke to me concerning
you. But you blusb, Ellen?"

"Yes, my dear madam," I answered, "because
I recollect the incident full well ; and though not
intentionally listening, I overheard every syllable
you said ; for in your affectioa for me you spoke
flatteringly !"

"No— I did not flatter you," responded the
dame, caressing my cheek with her hand. " I
spoke of you with sincerity— I said you would
grow up to be a beautiful girl : and you are beau-
tiful, Ellen ! But more than beautiful !— you are
good ! Ob, I know that you are good !— there is
innocence in your looks ! Oh ! and now you have
that same sweetly bashful smile which was wont

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IB8 OP AW ACTRESS.

359

to characterize you when you were with me ! You
saw how readily I recollected you the instant I
obtained a full view of your countenance when
you eat down upon this form ; for you are all ia
jiersonal beauty that in your girlhood I prophe-
sied you would become ! This is no flattery, my
dear child ; for I look upon you with a maternal
fondness."

I pressed the old lady's hand, and again wiped
away the tears from my eyes.

" I will give you & proof, my dear girl," re-
sumed Mrs. Kelly, " that I bad nofc forgotten
you."

She took up a large portfolio as she thus spoke ;
and opening it upon her little trfble, she turned
over a number of drawings made by her Scholars,
as well as various prints and pictures, — continuing
to speak the while in the following strain : —

"It was about six months ago that a hawker
of cheap publications, lithographic prints, music,
and so forth, called at my house. On looking over
his collection, I beheld a portrait which at once
struck me. It was that of Miss TrafiTord, the
eminent tragic actress."

"Ah!" was the involuntary ejaculation which
fell from my lips : but the dame did not notice it ;
and she continued her discourse, while turning
over the contents of the portfolio.

"I purchased that portrait — for it seemed to
me, Ellen, to be a speaking likeness of what I pic-

thau a tolerable likeness — it was indeed a good
one; and I marvelled not that the worthy dame
should coutinue to ejaculate, " Now, is not the
resemblance singularly striking ?— is it not life-
like?— wouiil not anybody fancy it had been
really intended for yourself? '

" Yes," I answered, bending my countenance
orer the picture : " there is a certain resem-
blance "

" A certain resemblance do you call it ?" she ex-
claimed : " it is a very great one ! I shall cover
over the words ' Hiss Tmjford,' and shall substi-
tute tho name of Ellen Perct/. It is to me a
treasure!"— and sho replaced the portrait in her
portfolio.

" And now, my dear friend," I said, hastening
to change the topic, " you will wonder what has
brought me to Leeds. I will tell you a tale of
villany. My grandfather bequeathed me every-
thing : Mrs. Parks and her son forged the will
which deprived me of my fortune ; and all that I
have obtained of the deceased Mr. Forayth's pro-
perty is the old house in this same street."

"This is dreadful !" ejaculated Mrs. Kelly. " My
poor child, that you should have thus been plun-
dered ! But Mr. Parks is living : can you not
invoke the aid of the law "

"It is too long now to tell you," I interrupted
her, " how grossly I have been defrauded by that
man. Suffice it to say that he has so cleverly

tured to myself that you must have grown up to I managed matters that the law cannot reach him

become. And it is, too ! The more I look at

you But where is this portrait ? I shall find

it in a moment ! You yourself will then recog-
nise the remarkable resemblance and, my dear

girl, it was on this account that I bouijht it. I
of course knew very well that it could not be
really meant for you. In the first place the
names are difi'erent; and then too, you never
showed the slightest taste in that direction ! But
sometimes, when alone, I have looked at that por-
trait, and I have thought to myself that if by any
accident my dear little Ellen Percy should have
become the greatest actress of the day — if for any
reason you had taken another name— in a word,
if you were really this Miss Trafibrd, — how proud
and happy should I be ! Yes— and I will confess,
my dear Ellen, that with an old woman's vanity
— pardonable though foolish— I should never have
ceased to boast to my neighbours that the far-
famed tragedian had once sat upon that very form
where you are now seated, and had received the
rudiments of education from me."

The old dame was still turning over the con-
tents of her portfolio, so that she did not perceive
the emotions which her kind and aflfcetionate words
conjured up j and after a brief pause she went on
as follows: —

"But of eoiirse I knew very well that these
were merely dreams and visions on my part — and
that with the exception of the resemblance be-
tween the portrait and yourself, there was nothing
identical in respect to Mies Trafford and Miss
Percy. Ah ! here's the portrait !" — and Mrs.
Kelly produced it.

I had never before seen this lithograph : but
then there had been many portraits of me pub-
lished at dilfcrent times, even though my career
upou the stage had been so short. 1 took this
one in my hand : I at once saw that it was more

In a word, I have nothing but the house— and I
am come to visit it. When I say nothing," I
hastily added, " I mean nothing of my late grand-
father's property. But now enough of my per-
sonal concerns ! All that I have been telling you,
my dear Mrs. Kelly, you had better keep to your-
self. I would rather that these afi'airs should not
become generally known."

"1 never liked that Mrs. Parks," said the dame :
"no— I never liked her, even before all those
evil reports began to circulate in the neighbour-
hood ■"

" What evil reports do you mean, my dear
friend ?" I asked quickly.

" Oh ! perhaps they were mere idle rumours,"
rejoined Mrs. Kelly, — "something about the
treatment which your poor grandfather expe-
riuced at the hands of the old woman. But
scandal, you know, is always busy with the cha-
racters of others and perhaps Mrs. Parks, bad

though she were, was not quite so infamous as
tho world would make her out. Yet, as I was
saying, I never liked her ; and as for her son, from
what little I ever saw of him, I liked him even
less. But these are such unpleasant topics, for
heaven's sake let us change them : and now tell
me, my dear Ellen— you are happy and prosperous
— are you not?"

" Both happy and prosperous," I responded.
" But tell me in your turn, my dear Mrs. Kelly,
are you yourself perfectly happy in every sense-
comfortable— with no drawback to your content-
ment ?"

" My dear child, we all have our troubles in this
world," interjected the dame : and methought that
she heaved a sigh.

" Ah ! I feel convinced," I cried, " that
have some source of ulBiction ! Name it."

" It is of no use, Ellen," said the worth"

you

360

BLiiEsr pbkct; ok, the memoies of an acteess.

woman. " You are happy : whj should I trouble
you with my griefs ?"

" Because I can sympathise with you," I an-
swered, affectionately pressing her hand.

" True !" she said : " and the sympathy of one
whom I love will be sweet ! Yet perhaps you will
think that what I regard as a misfortune, is some-
thing very trivial ; and you will be surprised at
me for my weakness and folly. But I will con-
fess this weakness, if such it be."

" Speak, my kind friend," I said, painfully inte-
rested in her discourse.

" For more than twenty years, Ellen, I have
lived in this house ; and it has become endeared
to me for a thousand reasons. Those who were
once my pupils and who are now grown up women
—many of them married, and having children of
their own— come to me at times — greet me with
affection— speak of past years— and melt with
emotion when sitting down, as you have now been
doing, in the places which they occupied in their
girlhood. Well then, Ellen, cannot you compre-
hend how this place is endeared to me ? But the
owner of the property has recently died — the
house is to be sold by his executors — and a neigh-
bour of mine is already bargaining for the pur-
chase that he may open a shop here in his own
trade. It is true I have some little means and
can take another house : but the idea of being

ejected for I have no lease — and indeed I have

already received notice that next quarter I may
have to turn out "

"This is indeed hard, my dear friend!" lex-
claimed. " But "

" Ah, Ellen [" interjected the dame, " with all
your goodness of heart I knew you could not see
the matter in the same light in which I behold
it. However, we will not talk any longer on
this subject."

The worthy woman at once turned the conver-
sation to other topics : but I soon took leave of
her — for I was anxious to visit the house which
had been bequeathed to me by my grandsire. I
affectionately embraced Mrs. Kelly ; and she be-
sought me to call upon her again, if I had time,
before I left Leeds.

On quitting her abode, I proceeded along the
street, every inch of which was familiar to me,
and many if not most of whose shops wore pre-
cisely the same aspect as when I last saw them
seven years back. At length I reached the house
which was my own. There it stood— its dark red
brick front darker and more dingy than ever !
Many of the panes in the numerous small windows
were broken : it had a gloomy, miserable, sombre
appearance. It was just such a house as vulgar
superstition would repute to be haunted. And
many years back this was its reputation j for, as I
have said in the opening chapter of my narrative,
a dreadful murder had once been committed there,
and on account of its ill-fame Mr. Forsyth had
purchased it at so cheap a rate. I had learnt
from Mr. Parks on the day when he handed
me over the deed of conveyance, and when he so
cruelly defrauded me by means of the cheque
written with sympathetic ink, that the house had
been shut up ever since Mrs. Parks left it in com-
pany with me seven years back; but that the key
was in the hands of the house-agent living almost
opposite. Mr. Parks had likewise given me a

letter to this agent — to the effect that the house
was now mine, and that he was to hand me over
the key when I required it.

Having for some few minutes contemplated the
sombre and dilapidated building, I bent my steps
towards the agent's. Mr. Jacobs— for such was
his name — was in a very small way of business ;
or at all events, the appearance of his own dwell-
ing and little office did not denote very flourishing
circumstances. Two or three shabbily dressed
children were playing on the doorstep; and when
I crossed the threshold, my nostrils were assailed
by odours of tobacco and onions, blending with a
most nauseating effect.

" Is Mr. Jacobs at home P" I inquired of a
little dirty-looking man who was seated on a high
stool at a desk.

" My name is Jacobs, ma'am," he answered.

I should observe that though I recollected the
agency-office very well, I did not remember its
present occupant, for the reason that will pre-
sently transpire.

" Have the kindness to read this note," I said ;
and I handed him the letter which Mr. Parks had
given me, and which was addressed to Mr.
Jacobs,

He accordingly perused it : and taking off his
hat, he made a bow, saying, " I presume you are
the Miss Ellen Percy mentioned in this letter ?"

" The same," I responded. " And you have
the key of the house opposite ?"

" At your service, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Jacobs.
"There will be a little something to pay for
agency : it runs over a matter of seven years," he
continued, turning the dirty dog's-eared leaves of
his account-book : " for I bought the business of
Mr. Holland "

" Ah ! to be sure !" I said : " I recollect that
such was the name of the person who used to keep

this office. But proceed and whatever there

is to pay shall be promptly liquidated."

" Seven years' agency, and trying to let the
house," continued Mr. Jacobs : " I don't suppose,
Miss, that six shillings a year would hurt you ;
and so, if you give me a couple of guineas, I shall
be very glad to cry quits."

" Here is the amount," I said, astonished at the
insignificance of the demand. " I am to suppose,
then, that there have been no repairs effected — no

cleansing of any kind Indeed I have only to

look at the aspect of the premises," I added, with
a sigh, " to perceive the folly of my question !"

" Why, Miss, to speak the truth," responded
Mr. Jacobs, "according to the entry which I
found in Mr. Holland's book when I purchased
the business, and which entry you can read here, if
you please. Miss——"

"It is not necessary," I said: "be so kind as
to give me an idea of the sense of it."

"It is to say. Miss," continued Mr. Jacobs,
" that nothing would be allowed for any repairs
or cleansing whatsoever — that the house might
either be let at a low rental or else be sold out-
right for a small sum. Here it is ! Eent, 251. a-
year, to be taken on a repairing lease. Price for
the freehold, 500?."

" And has no one ever applied either to be-
come a tenant or a purchaser ?" I asked.

"Yes, Miss— several persons, on seeing the
board up at the house announcing that it was to

be let or sold, have come to make inquiries : but
on learning the terms they have gone away again,
without ever taking the trouble to look over the
premises at all. The fact is, Miss, begging your
pardon for saying so— but it is my duty to tell
you— the truth is the house has got a bad
name "

" I know that it had many, many years ago
when my grandfather purchased it. There is a
tradition of a horrible murder having been com-
mitted there: but surely that evil repute must
have worn itself out, especially as my grandfather
subsequently occupied the house for so long a
period ?"

" Well, Miss," said Mr. Jacobs, looking at me
significantly, " I suppose you wish to hear the

real truth and if you do, I am the man to

tell it."

" Yes, speak candidly !" I replied : and fancy-
ing that 1 beheld an avaricious twinkle in his
No. 46.— EiLEN Peect.

eyes, I laid down another sovereign upon Lis
desk ; for I bad a presentiment that the man bad
something to unfold which it was my duty to
hear.

" You see. Miss Percy," he continued, " the
terms upon which this house of your's has hitherto
been either to let or sell, are low and trifling
enough. People have been to my office to make
inquiries, as I have already informed you. When
they hear the terms, they think that there must
be something strange that they are so low ; and
instead of giving themselves the trouble to look
over the premises at once, they go and make in-
quiries elsewhere. And then what do they hear ?
Very bad reports connected with that house. Now,
you havo enjoined me to tell you the whole tru'ch
— and I shall tell it. It is not only, then, that
many years ago a wife was murdered by her hus-
band under the most horrible circumstances— but
likewise that now forgive me for speaking the

362

ELLEK PEECT ; OE, THE ME3I0IES OF AN ACIRE33.

tmtli It is that your grandfather himself was

murdered by his old housekeeper !"

" Good God !" I ejaculated, staggering back
against the wall, and with a sensatioa of the
deadly paleness that came over my countenance.
" Is it possible that such is the report ?"

"It is indeed, Miss," replied Mr. Jacobs. "It

is said that Mrs. Parks poisoned the old man

But you look very ill! Let me offer you a glass
of water ?"

" Ifo, no, I thank you!— I shall bo better in
a moment ! And such is the rumour 1" I mur-
mured, with a horrified feeling, as I now com.
prehended those dark mysterious allusions which
' Mrs. Kelly had made to the character of the
deceased housekeeper,

"I am sorry that I should have told you any-
thing to give you so much pain," proceeded Mr.
Jacobs : " but it was my duty to explain the
whole truth. So you see. Miss, that when persons
go about the neighbourhood making inquiries and
learn that the place is generally known as the
haunted house, it is no wonder they never come
back to ask for the key to inspect the premises."

" Ko wonder, indeed !" I murmured, scarcely
knowing what I said ; for my mind was filled with
the most harrowing and torturing reflections.

Mr. Jacobs had no more information to give
me. I summoned all my fortitude to my aid — I
nerved myself with all my energy to 8tru<,'e;le
against the horrible ideas — I will even say suspi-
cions which had arisen in my mind : and taking
up the key which the house-agent had laid upon
his desk, I turned to leave the office,

" You will permit mo to accompany you,
Miss ?" said Mr. Jacobs.

"No, I thank you," was my response: then
fancying that some little explanation was requisite
for this refusal of the man's courtesy, I added,
"You may easily suppose that under all circum-
stances my feelings aro Tery much excited— and
I would fain be alone."

I left the office and proceeded to the house op-
posite. I placed the key in the lock ; but it was
only with the greatest difficulty and after three or
four attempts that I could turn it. At length the
door opened; I crossed the tbreshold-^tbe ball
looked as gloomy as if it were the entrance to a
sepulchre— the silence which prevailed was like
that of death — while the atmosphere seemed
fraught with the dampness of the grave itself. 1
confess that I shuddered, and hesitated to advance
farther into that house of evil repute: but con-
quering my repugnance, and feeling ashamed of my
superstitious terrors, I closed the door behind me.

The light was now but feebly admitted into the
hall by a window on the landing ; for the panes
of this window were all grimed with collected dust
and with the falling soot from the chimneys of ad-
jacent factories. My feet as I advanced raised a
cloud of dust ; and now that the front door was
shut, the smell of the air was mouldy as well as
damp. To enter into a house which has long been
shut up, always tends to make a certain disagree-
able impression upon the mind : but to enter a
house to which such terrific rumours were at-
Inched as the one where I now found myself, was
only too well calculated to inspire tho boldest
heart with a vague superstitious dread.

Mustering all my energies, and resolute in

triumphing over these unpleasant impressions, I
opened the door of the parlour which was wont to
b* inhabited during my grandfather's lifetime. I
should observe that the house was empty, — all
the furniture (such as it was) having been hur-
riedly disposed of after my grandsire's death, when
Mrs. Parks made up her mind to leave the town.
The light was admitted into that parlour bv the
heart-shaped air-holes in the rickettyold shutters:
but the room was involved in semi-obscurity ; and
as I glanced around, it almost seemed to me as if
shadows were stealing through the gloom at the
farther extremity. I thought that I had already
seen enough of this dismal dreary house : but ou
the other hand there was a feeling in my mind
that I ought to visit the room where my poor
grandfather had breathed his last— and I likewise
had a yearning to ascend to the little chamber
where I myself used to sleep. I passed into that
back room on the ground floor which my grand-
father was wont to call his office ; and this was
even darker than the front parlour. The paper
had all become detached from the walls by the
damp; and it hung in blackened tatters or in
masses, like time-worn and dilapidated tapestry in
the ruined chambers of some ancient caatle. I
passed on into the little room which my grand-
father had occupied, and where he had breathed
his last. It was empty, like the other rooms: bat
in imagination I again behold the wretched,
ricketty, dirty, comfortless bed in which the old
man died — the drapery hanging from the beam —
and the escritoire to which he had pointed when
in his last moments indicating to Mrs. Parks
where his will would be found. Oh! and now
how vividly in my mind were conjured up the ter-
rific words which I had heard liim spoak on tiiat
occasion: — "And if you do not fulfil the oath yon
have taken —if you, fail in one single particular
— may the cttrse of a dying man cling to yitu for
the remainder of your existence ! — may it poison
the very springs of that existence ! — may it stifle
your last prayer in your throat tvhcn your own
time shall also come-!— and may it hurry your
soul into everlasting perdition .'"

" Oh, my God !" I thought to myself, " if that
terrific curse could have had its full eflTect ! and if
its withering, blighting influence can have fallen
upon the vile perjured woman, body and soul !"

A cold shudder crept over me ; and when in
imagination I depicted the last appalling scene of
my grandfather's life, — when, with my inward
vision, I beheld that chamber furnished and
peopled in every respect as I had then seen it—
but when, with my outward eyes, I saw it empty
and gazed upon vacancy, — there was something
awful and appalling in the very contrast betweea
the actual fact and the e2"ect of my fancy !

And now a thousand reminiscences began to
crowd in upon my mind. I reviewed all the cir-
cumstances of my grandfather's death: in short,
I was at that moment constituting myself as it
were a tribuna', with the image of Mrs. Parks ar-
raigned before me, accused of murder, and for me
to pronounce the sentence Yea or Nay- Guilty or
Not Guilty !

I recollected how my grandfather was first
taken ill, without any visible cause for his indis-
position—how on his refusal to have medical ad-
vice Mrs. Parks did not use her influence to over-

ELLEN' PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AJf ACTEESS.

303

rule his meanness and send for a surgeon in his
despite — but hov7 she herself administered the
medicines that she purchased at the chemist's.
Then I recollected how Mrs. Parks insisted upon
™y fjoing to school instead of sufTering me to re-
main to nurse my poor eld grandsire ; and I re-
membered likewise bow the kind-hearted Mrs.
Kellj purposely gave me a holiday that 1 might
bo with my perishing relative. And now also to
my mind with startling vividness came back a
scene which has been duly recorded in the second
chapter of my narrative, — how on reaching home
on that occasion when the holiday was given, I
found Mrs. Parks and her son seated very close
together, in earnest whispering conversation over
the fire, and how my unexpected entrance startled
them up,— .the son exiiibiting the greatest confu-
sion, and the old woman wearing an expression of
countenance which had absolutely frightened me !
And I likewise recollected how Mrs. Parks had
begged me not to mention to my grandfather that
her son was there.

All these circumstances had hitherto struck me
as suspicious only in respect to the forgery of the
will, since I had known of that forgery : but now,
as I reviewed them, they appeared to assume a
still deeper significancy and to point to a still
darker crime. My horrible suspicions in respect
to that crime were growing sti*ongor and stronger
as I continued to review the incidents attending
my poor grandfather's death. I recollected how
he got better and worse— how on the morning of
his last day he declared that he was well enough
to get up and that i might go to Echool~how on
my return home in the evening to tea, I felt con-
vinced he was sinking— but how at ten at night
he rallied and proclaimed himself to be much
better again— and how within a couple of hours
he was a corpse !

" Poison ! poison !" I murmured to myself, as
the whole train of incidents swept like a ghastly
phantasmagoria before my mental vision. " Every
circtftnstance corroborates the frightful idea !— and
I who never suspected it until now ! Yes, thou
wast murdered, my poor grandfather! — murdered
by the wretch who had so long eaten of thy bread !
—and no doubt her son was an accomplice in the
crime !"

Again did I shudder to the uttermost confines
of my entire being. Oh! no wonder that the
house should have acquired so terrible a reputa-
tion and that it should be deemed haunted!— for
to me it oven appeared to be accursed ! I moved
towards the door : but I scarcely know how it was,
I there seemed to be some species of horrible fasci-
nation keeping me there, as if insensibly binding
me to the contemplation of a spot which I had
now no doubt had been the scene of a foul and
fear.ul crime. At length, with a strong exercise
of my resolution, I left the chamber. Again I
thought 1 had seen enough of that house which
wore the aspect of murder's own abode : but again
was I inspired by the wish to cast ono look upon
the little chamber where I myself had been wont
to sleep. I therefore ascended the staircase, —
my footsteps still raising clouds of dust, and every
stair creaking beneath me; while through the
semi-obscurity that prevailed I again thought that
I beheld shadows fleeting.

In a few moments I reached the room which

Mrs. Parks used to occupy. I passed throuijh it,
with a cold shudder at the recollection that I had
slept in such close vicinage with such a woman ;
and I entered the little chamber beyond. It was
empty, as every other room was : but my imagi-
nation readily depicted it as it was wont to ba
when I was its tenant; and again I thought to
myself how different was now my position from
what I could ever have foreseen in the girlhood
that was associated with this little chamber ! And
now all my feelings, hitherto pent up, found a
vent— and I wept copiously. My tears relieved
my surcharged heart : I wiped my eyes — and I
was retracing my way through the room which
used to be occupied by Mrs. Parks, when I
dropped my kerchief. While stooping to pick it
up, it seemed to me that the board on which my
foot rested was loose, and that it vibrated in its
setting. For a moment I was inclined to attach
no particular importance to a circumstance which
might well arise from the generally dilapidated
condition of the house, — until I noticed that by
the fact of treading upon that board and then
withdrawing my foot, it had so glided back as it
were out of its setting that one extremity now
revealed a little opening. While contemplating
that aperture, I observed that whereas all the
other boards ran the full length of the room, each
without any joining, this particular board had the
appearance of being a piece let in. Could such
an arrangement be for any particular purpose ?
Such was the question I asked myself; and all
cii'cuinstances, even the most trivial, were now
fraught with a degree of significancy and assumed
an importance in my estimation. Indeed, the
idea struck me that as my grandfather was a
miser, the house might contain hoarded wealth
hitherto unknown and unsuspected ; and that
such a contrivance as I now beheld upon the
floor, might have served as one of the means
for concealing the treasured gold, if any. I
did not pause to reflect that it was unlikely
enough he would have chosen his housekeeper's
room for tho purpose of such concealment:
but applying my foot to the extremity of the
board, I caused it to glide completely back
from its proper place. At the first glance I be-
held nothing in the recess thus revealed, — until
a closer inspection showed me some little dark
object which looked like a folded rag or paper
packet blackened with dust. I was half inclined
to leave it there : indeed I was already turning
away, when some incomprehensible feeling, having
the sensation of a vague presentiment, prompted
me to push my curiosity a little farther. With-
drawing my glove, I took up the dark object, and
found that it was a piece of rotting linen rag
wrapped about some small hard substance. I
took off the rag; and I discovered this hard sub*
stance to be a little tin-bos, about as large as the
usual gallipots in which cold cream or cerates aro
! sold. A suspicion flashed to my mind : for had I
I not on a former occasion beheld certain little tin-
boxes resembling this one? Yes!— and the box
I which I now held in my hand, contained things
! which rattled in tho metal inclosure. With shud-
dering form and with quivering fingers I opened
j the lid of the box ; and therein I beheld half-a-
I dozen small lozenges, about the size of coffee-
beans, and of a similar colour !

364

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AN ACTEE39.

"My God!" I murmured to myself; "it is now
but too apparent ! Yes, my poor grandfather,
thou wast poisoned ! — and that same species of
poison which took thy life seven years back, was
six months ago intended to take mine likewise !"

I placed the little box in my pocket, and I
issued from the room where I had made a dis-
covery so important in its horrible significancy.
There was a tremendous consternation resting
upon my mind — an awful dismay sitting like a
nightmare upon my soul.

" Oh, of how many crimes am I to become
aware in this world !" 1 thought within myself,—
" I who have never committed any !"

I issued from the house, locking the front door
and taking the key with me. I saw Mr. Jacobs
standing on the threshold of his office, evidently
waiting to see whether I had any instructions to
give him in reference to the premises : but I af-
fected not to notice him and hastened along the
street, for my mind was too much agitated to
allow me to enter into immediate discourse with
any one. Before I returned to the hotel I walked
about Leeds that I might compose my feelings
somewhat, so as to avoid betraying to Beda the
extent to which they had been harrowed and hor-
rifled. At length, when I did go back to the
hotel, I sent out Beda to make certain private
inquiries ; and then I shut myself in my chamber,
to reflect upon everything which had transpired
on this memorable morning.

CHAPTEE LXIII.

MB8. NOEMAN.

That my unfortunate grandfather had been
poisoned by the infamous Mrs. Parks, I had not
now the slightest doubt ; and I was almost equally
certain of the complicity of her son in the stupen-
dous crime. As I meditated upon the awful sub-
ject, I gradually began to comprehend the motives
which the Parks's must have had for this atrocity.
My grandfather had made his will in my favour ;
and no doubt Mrs. Parks had by some means or
another ascertained that it was in the house and
that it had not been entrusted to the care of a
solicitor. Thus, if my grandfather were put out
of the way, the will might be likewise destroyed
and a forged one substituted. A variety of cir-
cumstances must have induced Mrs. Parks and
her son to accelerate by a crime the death of the
old man for whose decease in the natural course of
things they deemed it not prudent to wait. There
was the visit of my aunt Mrs. Wakefield, which
visit might have been repeated, and my grand-
father might have entrusted her with the will or
acquainted her with its contents and have left me
to her guardianship. Then there was the sudden
appearance of my father in the neighbourhood;
and Mrs. Parks could not tell what influence he
might possibly manage sooner or later to obtain
over the old man. I myself was getting of an
Dge at which I might be supposed to be intelli-
gent with respect to whatsoever was passing
around me; and the more I became capable of
rendering myself useful to my grandfather, the
more would the influence of Mrs. Parks decline.

And then too, Mrs. Parks could not have failed to
perceive that she was more or less an object of
suspicion to the old man, though ho had not the
moral courage to dispense with her further ser-
vices. Thus, all thing considered, there were
plenty of reasons for Mrs. Parks and her son to
apprehend that Mr. Forsyth's wealth would even-
tually slip out of their hands unless they perpe-
trated a crime, promptly and boldly, though with
diabolic insidiousness, to secure his riches for
themselves.

Yes — I now comprehended it all ! I could read
the past as lucidly as if it were being unfolded to
me by some superior genius having a knowledge
of all things. And then, in reference to the
poison by which the crime had been perpetrated,
— there were the lozenges of the vei;y same
species which the old hag. Dame Betty, Zarah's
grandmother had given to Beda with instructions
that they were to be administered to me. Mrs.
Parks had probably procured those envenomed
lozenges from Dame Betty herself, or else from
some wretch of the same gang to whom the secret
of the horrible compound was known; and in the
hurry in which we had left the house after my
grandfather's death, the guilty woman had for-
gotten to destroy those traces of her crime. I
could not help feeling, with a sensation of solemn
awe, that the hand of providence had been gra-
dually guiding me on towards the discovery of this
tremendous crime, — flrst by making me aware at
Birmingham of how such things as the poisoned
lozenges were in existence, — then, more recently,
enabling me to obtain from Mr. Parks the con-
veyance of the old house at Leeds, in order that I
might come back to this very house and there dis-
cover the concealed evidence of the iniquity which
had been accomplished.

The reader may well suppose that my reflections
ranged not merely over the past, but that they
applied to the present and the future, and that I
deliberated with myself what steps I should take
in order to bring Mr. Parks to justice, if he were
really an accomplice in his deceased mother's guilt.
I conceived that I had now a solemn duty to per-
form— namely, to punish the surviving assassin (if
an assassin he really were) of my unfortunate old
relative. I was resolved that nothing should in-
duce me to depart from this duty — nothing should
compel me to forego it. I was inspired by no vin-
dictive feeling on my own account through the loss
of my fortune : the duty which I had to perform
I regarded in the sacred light of something high
above all selfish considerations. But what course
should I adopt to discover first of all whether Mr.
Parks were really the guilty accomplice of his
mother ?— and if this could be by any means
proven, how was I to bring that guilt home to
him ? I saw that my position was altogether a
diflicult one in these respects : but still I was re>
solved to be daunted by no obstacles and to be de-
terred by no considerations.

I had sent out Beda to make certain private
inquiries connected with a matter very different
from that to which I am referring. After an ab-
sence of upwards of an hour the faithful girl re-
turned ; and I assumed as composed a demeanour
as possible— for I did not at present wish to enter
into any explanations with regard to my horrible
discoveries of that morning, though I had no

doubt that on a future occasion I should tako
Beda into my confidence on the point, inasmuch
as her assistanco would bo needful in following up
the clue which I already possessed.

" Have you succeeded, Beda ?" I inquired, when
the young girl reappeared at the hotel.

"Yes, Miss," she responded. "If you call
upon Mr. Sawbridge, an attorney who lives in
this very same street, you will ascertain every
particular."

"I will go at once," I said: and in a fe<y
minutes I entered the attorney's office.

Mr. Sawbridge was there; and I was at once
admitted into his presence. I introduced myself
to him as Miss Percy — which name indeed I was
passing under at the hotel ; so that he had no idea
I was the well-known Miss Trafford.

"I believe, Mr. Sawbridge," I said, "you are
one of the executors of the late Mr. Bolton — to
whom belonged, amongst other property, the
house in which Mrs. Kelly the schoolmistress re-
sides?"

"It is as you have been informed. Miss Percy,"
replied the lawyer. " It is my duty as an executor
to make the most of the property of the deceased
for the heirs whom he has left behind ; and as
these are three in number, I am compelled to
realise that property with a view to its equal dis-
tribution. I have already received an ofier for
the house to which you allude : but I have not
yet found time to progress with the negotia-
tion."

" What is the value of the house ?" I in*
quired.

"The offer I have received is sis hundred
pounds," ypas the attorney's response.

" It would be a hard thing," I said, " to compel
the poor old lady to leave a house which she has
inhabited so long and in a neighbourhood where
she has formed so good a connexion for her day-
school. Can nothing be done to ensure her the
occupation of the house for the remainder of her
life ? She has not many years to live "

"I see that you are interested in her," said
Mr. Sawbridge ; " and I will explain to you
exactly how the matter stands. The deceased
Mr. Bolton's heirs instructed me to offer Mrs.
Kelly the lease of the house, at its present rental,
for the remainder of her natural life, if she would
pay a bonus of a hundred and fifty pounds. But
this she has declined to do."

" Because doubtless," I said, " her means cannot
be very great. But I presume it will be precisely
the same thing if I pay that sum for her? — and
you will give her the lease ?"

" Certainly," answered Mr. Sawbridge. " As I
have already told you. Miss Percy, it is my object
as well as my duty to make the property produce
as much as possible for its present heirs. Mrs.
Kelly pays a very low rent : but the bonus which
I have named would be considered by the heirs as
a just equivalent for the advantages they would
otherwise attain by the immediate sale of the
house."

" Then I will pay that money," I said. " I pre-
sume you will take my cheque on my London
banker? — as I did not come to Leeds prepared
■with any such amount."

I saw that the lawyer hesitated; and I therefore
added, "Mr. Jacobs, the house-agent in

Street, can satisfy you that I have a little pro-
perty in this town which is worth considerably
more than the sum mentioned becween us. But
perhaps, if you glance at this card, you will bo
still more completely satisfied of my ability to pay
the 8un>."

Thus speaking, I handed Mr. Sawbridge the
card of my dramatic name ; and on looking at it,
he at once expressed himself completely satisfied,
and spoke of the honour which he experienced in
thus forming my acquaintance. He promised
that the lease should be drawn up that very day,
and that it should be in readiness for my disposal
on the following morning at ten o'clock, I re-
quested him to keep the matter secret from Mrs.
Kelly, as I reserved to myself the pleasure of
affording thai excellent lady an agreeable sur-
prise ; and I took my departure from the lawyer's
office.

In the course of the day I reflected that after
everything which had transpired in respect to my
late grandfather's house, it would be better to
leave the building in its present condition for a
little while, until I should have ascertained whether
it were possible to bring Mr. Parks to justice : for
I thought that perhaps it might be needful for me
to show where I had discovered the poisoned
lozenges. I therefore called upon Mr. Jacobs,
and informed him that for the present I had
arrived at no decision in respect to what I would do
with the house, further than that I did not choose
to let it ; and that therefore the board fastened
over the front door and announcing that it was
either to be let or sold, might be taken down.

On the following morning, shortly after ten
o'clock, I proceeded to the lawyer's office, where I
found that the lease was duly prepared, according
to his promise. I gave him the cheque for a hun-
dred and fifty pounds; and I took my departure,
in possession of the document. I bent my steps
towards the residence of the worthy dame to whose
interests I had thus been devoting my attention :
I found her in the schoolroom, surrounded by her
pupils ; and she welcomed me with affectionate
joy. I requested permission to speak to her alone
for a few minutes; and we retired together into
her parlour.

" I am now come, my dear Mrs. Kelly," I said
" to reveal to you a secret which I might have
confessed yesterday : but I really had not the
spirits to boast rejoicefuUy of my own elevation
in the world. I was affected by my meeting with
you— by all the past associations which that meet-
ing conjured up— and by the prospect of imme-
diately afterwards visiting the old house where
my childhood was spent. I had scarcely any other

motive for my reserve upon the point and

thank God, no shame !"

" Ob, my dear girl ! is it possible," exclaimed
Mrs Kelly, whose venerable countenance became
radiant as she suspected the truth, — "is it pos-
sible "

"Ah! and remember, my good friend," I in-
terrupted her, smiling, " that you assured me you
should at once tell the secret to all your neigh-
bours !— and as I came to Leeds under a strict
inecjnito, for mere business purposes "

" Oh ! then, after all," cried the dame, " it is
your portrait — and you are Miss Trafford !"

She embraced me, the tears of joy flowing from

366

EXLEN PKECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTBES3.

her eyes; and she naurmured with much emotion,
"This is the happiest day of my life! To think
that you were my pupil!"

And then, in the enthusiasm of her delight, she
was rushing to the school-room to announce the
intelligence to her scholars : but I caught her by
the arm, saying, "No, my dear friend!— not yet !
I beseech you to wait until I am gone."

" Well, my dear Ellen, it shall be so. But you
■will pardon an old woman's pride "

" Oh ! of yoii, I never can think otherwise than
with the most grateful affection!" I exclaimed ;
"and a happy moment is it for me in which I can
testify all the gratitude of my heart. In my
youthful days many and many an act of kindness
did I receive from you ; and though I shall ever
remain your debtor, yet may I at least prove that
I am sensible of the obligation. You shall not
leave your house, my dear friend ! — you shall con-
tinue to occupy for the remainder of your days the
dwelling which is endeared to you ! — and may you
yet live long to enjoy the possession of it !"

I spread out the lease before the worthy dame ;
and having hurriedly but fervidly embraced her,
I sped forth from the habitation, that I might
avoid the expressions of gratitude to which she
was beginning to give utterance. I returned to
the hotel ; and within the same hour Eeda and I
were on our way back to London,

It was past ten o'clock when we reached Hunter
Street ; and the moment the footman opened the
front door, I perceived by his look that there was
something wrong. I anxiously and hurriedly in-
quired if Mr. and Mrs. Norman and Miss Grlent.
worth were well?— and then the domestic, shaking
his bead with a solemn air, said, " I am afraid
Miss Percy that you have very bad tidings to re-
ceive ! My poor mistress "

" Good heavens !" I cried : and without waiting
to hear any more, I rushed up the stairs.

On the landing I met Mr. Norman, who was
overwhelmed with grief on seeing me ; and
taking my hand he pressed it nervously and con-
vulsively in his own, his voice being lost in sobs.
Some minutes elapsed ere he could give utterance
to a word to relievo mo from the agonizing sus-
pense which I experienced : and then he said in
broken accents, " My poor wife ! I fear that she
is on her death bed !"

I burst into tears ; and without waiting to hear
any more, I hastened up to Mrs. Norman's cham-
ber. She was lying in bed; and Mary Glent-
worth was seated by her side. The poor lady
looked very pale : her eyes were sunken, and had
blueish circles about them. She smiled when she
beheld me ; and said in a feeble voice, " I am glad
you are come, dearest Ellen, that I may see you
before I die !"

I threw myself upon her bosom and wept bit-
terly : but she bade me console myself — and she
spoke in the sweet mild voice of placid resignation.
When the first violence of my affliction was some-
what past, I turned and embraced Mary Glent-
worth, whose cheeks were likewise moistened with
tears. Almost immediately afterwards the family
physician made his appearance ; so that Mary and
I withdrew.

Mavy accompanied me to my chamber, where I
now learnt the particulars of Mrs. Norman's ill-
ness. She was seated at luncheon, at about one

o'clock, when she suddenly sank back in her chair,
and pressing her hand to her forehead, ejaculated
faintly, " Good God ! I feel very ill !" The next
instant blood streamed forth from her mouth. The
alarm and grief of Mr. Norman and Mary may be
conceived : the physician was sent for, and Mrs.
Norman was at once conveyed to her chamber.
When the medical attendant arrived, he pro-
nounced that she had broken a blood-vessel inter-
nally. She was a little past fifty years of age —
somewhat stout of figure, and of a full habit of
body. She had not been accustomed to take much
exercise, having for some years enjoyed the use of
her own carriage. She lived well, and seldom took
medicine j for she had a prej udice against " tamper-
ing with one's constitution," as she called it ; —
and thus, all things considered, it was not difficult
to account for the accident which had befallen her.
The physician had privately informed Mr. Nor-
man that his wife's position was most critical, and
that little short of a miracle would save her. A
messenger had therefore been sent off to Juliet at
Dover ; and a communication would likewise have
been made to me at Leeds, had I not written on
the previous day a few hasty lines to the effect
that I had arrived there safe and specifying when
I might be expected home again. Such was tho
statement which I received from the lips of Mary
Glentworth ; and now that I was made acquainted
with the cause of Mrs. Norman's illness, I per-
ceived how exceedingly serious it was, and I
dreaded a fatal result. For two years I had re-
sided with her : for two years she had been as a
mother to me ; and it was with a daughter's affec-
tion that I regarded her — therefore it was with a
daughter's grief that I thought of what the end
might be !

The physician gave Mr. Norman scarcely any
hope. This medical man was conscientious as
well as talented ; and he did not choose to belio
by his words that knowledge which his experience
gave him. Poor Mr. Norman suffered acutely :
but he strove to conquer his emotions when in his
wife's chamber, because she was tranquil and re-
signed, and he struggled hard to avoid anything
that might embitter the last few hours that she
had to live. As I had travelled nearly the whole
day and was much fatigued, Mary Glentworth
insisted that I should retire to rest, and that she
herself should sit up with Mrs, Norman during
the night. To this I assented, on condition that
I should take her place at about four or five
o'clock in the morning, so that Mary might bo
enabled to obtain a few hours of repose. I bade
Beda call me at the time specified ; for the young
girl had the faculty of awakening at any moment
when she thought fit, — this power being the spon-
taneous exercise of the volition when influenced by
a preconceived intention.

Accordingly, between four and five o'clock, I
took my place by the side of Mrs. Norman's
couch ; and shortly afterwards I heard an equipage
stop in front of the house. Peeping through tho
window I saw that it was a post-chaise ; and I
therefore knew that Juliet had arrived. I was
glad that she had come ; for Mrs. Norman had
been labouring under the painful apprehension
that she should breathe her last without seeing
her daughter. I hastened down stairs to receive
Juliet, and prepare her for the condition in which

ELLEJf PEECT; OE, THE MEJI0IE3 OF AN ACTEE83.

367

ehe might expect to find her mother. She had
arrived alone, — Lord Frederick having remained at
Eiver House, because, as Juliet said, he feared
that bis presence might be an embarrassment in
an habitation which already contained so many
persons, and to which illness had introduced
itself.

Mr. Iforman — who, having shared Mary Glent-
worth's vigil during the earlier part of the night,
bad retired to lie down for an hour or two in com-
pliance with the earnest wishes of his wife— rose
on hearing the equipage stop ; so that first of all
there was an affecting meeting between the
father and daughter, before a still mure affecting
meeting took place between the mother and
daughter. Juliet, who was devotedly attached to
both her parents, was well-nigh overwhelmed with
grief when she was received in her mother's arms.
Mrs. Korman asked her if she were happy with
her husband Lord Frederick — and Juliet declared,
with an unmbtakable sincerity, that she was far
happier than at the outset she had dared hope to
be, considering all antecedent circumstances.

" Do not weep for me, my dearest child !" said
Mrs. JTorman; "nor you, my dear husband ! — nor
you, my sweet Ellen ! Sooner or later death must
have laid his hand upon me : it is the lot of us all :
— we are in the world condemned to die from our
birth, but with reprieves of a greater or lesser
length."

There is something most profoundly affecting in
the soft sweet language which flows from the lips
of the dying one who is resigned : it is imbued
with an indescribable pathos — and the tears which
it calls forth, flow softly but in abundance. So
was it now with Mr. Korman, Juliet, and my-
self.

" I am prepared to die in one sense," said Mrs.
Norman, '•' though I have not the gratification of
being enabled to proclaim that my religious duties
have been very closely attended to. But still, if I
have never done much good, I can lay xaj hand
upon my heart and declare I have never done
any harm."

" Ifot done much good, my dearest wife ?" said
the weeping Mr. !Norman. " Oh, yes ! you have
done good ! When did you ever hear a tale of
distress without dropping a tear of sympathy and
administering succour P If any poor actor or
actress has required assistance, you have been one
of the very first to volunteer your aid. You have
never paused to reflect whether at the time we
could afford to give — but you have given ! Be-
lieve me, my dear wife, that charity such as you
have shown is more than an equivalent for many
prayers omitted ; and good deeds will avail in the
merciful consideration of the Eternal !"

" Yes," said Mrs. Norman ; " I have endea-
Toured to do my duty. Though reared, so to
speak, by my parents to a profession which the
world is in general too much in the habit of decry-
injr, I have never done anything that now renders
my conscience uneasy. When young, I resisted
all temptations to go astray ; and during the long
years of my married life the tongue of slander has
never dared breathe a syllable against my name.
It is thus with a sense o^ all duties fulfilled, that
I am tranquil in my last hours— and I shall die in
peace, surrounded by those whom 1 love !"

This was the language that flowed ia so inef-

fably touching a strain from the lips of Mrs. Nor-
man, and which called forth so much soft abun-
dant weeping from the eyes of her husband, het
daughter, and myself. After a little while the in-
valid slept : Mr. Norman, yielding to the interces-
sions of Juliet and myself, retired to his chamber ;
and we two kept watch in that room.

The day dawned — the physician came — and it
was now his duty to declare that there was not
the slightest hope. His patient, he said, might
linger on for several hours; but her recovery was
impossible. Those to whom she was dear, thus
made up their minds to lose her shortly : but in
spite of thus knowing the worst, we all felt how
sad the bereavement would be. The day passed ;
and when night came again, Mary Glentworth in-
sisted upon watching by the invalid's couch for
the first few hours. Mr. Norman, Juliet, and
myself would fain have tarried there likewise : but
Mrs. Norman besought us to seek some repose.
We yielded to her wishes, — Beda however being
instructed to summon us at four in the morn-
ing.

We were called according to that mandate ; and
then we insisted that Mary Glentworth should in
her turn retire to her chamber. Not long had
Mr. Norman, Juliet, and I been in the sick room
on this occasion, when the sad conviction was
forced upon us that our mournful duty would soon
be ended. Mrs. Norman was rapidly sinking.
The physician was sent for ; though, alas ! we all
knew that his presence there would be vain and
futile. It was a sad, sad scene ! Juliet, with her
face bent downward, and her long tresses flowing
in disorder, was weeping bitterly : I also was
weeping — as was likewise Mr. Norman. The last
moment of the departing one was nearer than we
had even anticipated. We had sent, as I have
just said, for the physician : we now at length
sent likewise to summon Mary Glentworth ; for
we knew that the kind-hearted girl would wish to
be present to bid a last adieu to her whom she
had already watched over so tenderly. But before
either the medical man came or Mary had de-
scended from her chamber, all was over— Mrs.
Norman bad breathed her last !

I will not dwell upon the affliction which this
event diffused throughout the house : it can be
better imagined than described. Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe was summoned from Dover, and im-
mediately on his arrival, he expressed his desire to
attend the funeral of his mother-in-law. AH the
leading members of the theatrical profession, in-
cluding the metropolitan managers, wrote to Mr.
Norman to convey their condolence, and to ascer-
tain whether it would gratify him that by follow-
ing the obsequies they might testify their esteem
for the memory of the deceased. But Mrs. Nor-
man had expressed a desire that the funeral should
be conducted with as much simplicity as possible ;
and therefore it was comparatively a private one.

When some days had elapsed after the mourn-
ful ceremony, I asked Juliet if she had as yet
heard anything from her father's lips to afford her
an idea uf what his own plans might now be ? She
spoke to him on the subject ; and through her
medium ho conveyed to me au affectionate and
delicate intimation that we must now separate.
He said that it went to his very soul to part from
me; but that as he was now a widower, with no

368

EIXEN PEECT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

female relative to take charge of bis household, he
could not any longer give me the home which I |
could consistently accept. Indeed, the necessity I
for this separation I had foreseen. I was no rela- 1
tion to Mr. Norman : the world is ever too prone |
to be scandalous in the view which it takes of j
private affairs, and particularly in those which re-
late to persons of our profession. In short, my I
reputation required that I should now seek an- j
other home. As for Mr. Norman himself, he in- i
tended to break up bis establishment in Hunter |
Street — to sell bis carriage and the greater portion j
of his furniture— and lo repair to the Continent
for awhile, that in change of scene he might suc-
ceed in mitigating the poignancy of his affliction.
He might have found a home at Eiver House :
but he preferred to be altogether alone, and to re-
main abroad for a season.

My own plan was therefore now speedily settled.
I had a home to provide for myself and Mary
Glentworth, who was to me as a sister. I received
the kindest letters from the Marchioness of Cam-
panella and the Countess of Carboni, begging me
to reside with them ; and likewise a letter from
the Countess of Belgrave (better known as Lady
Cecilia Urban) offering me a home at her man-
sion; but these proposals I gratefully declined. I
took a moderate-sized but very comfortable house
in Great Ormond Street ; and I purchased all the
furniture of which Mr. Norman thought fit to dis-
pose. The remainder of his furniture he consigned
to a warehouse, that it might be available for a
small suite of rooms or chambers on his return to
England. The day for parting came : it was an
affecting scene ; and I will not dwell upon it. Mr.
Norman accompanied Lord and Lady Frederick
Eavenscliffe on their way to Eiver House, where he
was to pass a day or two previous to setting out
for the Continent ; and at the same time Mary
Glentworth and I took possession of our new
abode.

I retained in my own service three of the
female domestics who had been for a considerable
period in the service of the Normans ; and I need
scarcely add that my faithful Beda remained with
me, I purchased a plain carriage, of that descrip-
tion which is known as a brougham, to be drawn
by only one horse: I retained Mr. Norman's
coachman, whom I placed on board wages — for I
did not purpose to have any man-servant living in
the house. In a few days all the arrangements
were perfected, and I thus entered as it were upon
a new mode of existence.

I had proposed to my father to take up his
abode with me altogether : but he had strenuously
refused, and in a manner which prevented me
from pressing the offer, inasmuch as it would only
have driven him into painful and humiliating ex-
planations. Although he was pardoned and was
therefore a free man once more, yet he never lost
sight of the infamy with which his past life had
branded him; and though, as he now bore the
name of Forsyth, he might have passed as my
uncle, yet he did not choose to incur the risk of
being some day discovered and proclaimed to be
my father. He was most delicately apprehensive
lest my interests should suffer on his account, and
therefore he said to me, " No, my dear child — I
cannot live with you: but I shall see you fre-
quently,"

I had given him a complete description of all
that had occurred at Leeds : but it was not until
I was fully settled in ray new home that we deli-
berated seriously upon the course that ought to be
adopted in order to bring Mr. Parks to justice— or
rather, I should say, in the first instance to dis-
cover whether he really had been the accomplice
of his mother's heinous crime. We revolved seve-
ral projects : but one only seemed to present any
feasibility. This was a scheme which I suggested
should be undertaken by Beda and myself: but I
postponed it for a brief space through a literal
sense of want of energy to carry it out. The
death of Mrs. Norman had made a very powerful
impression upon me, and had dispirited me to an
extent from which I could not very readily re-
cover. I required complete tranquillity, rest, and
seclusion for a short period; and my father, who
was apprehensive lest my health should suffer by
any immediate cause of excitement, supported my
view in postponing for a little while the enter-
prise to which I have alluded.

I should observe that I first of all thought of
communicating to Zarah — or, as I ought to call
her, Mrs. St. Clair— the grave suspicion which I
entertained that some of her grandmother's
poisoned lozenges had a few years back found
their way into the possession of a certain Mrs.
Parks at Leeds : but I knew full well that Zarah
would only entreat me not to take any step which
might threaten to compromise her grandmother,
and that she would be sure to withhold any assist-
ance that might possibly tend to that result. There-
fore, on second consideration, I resolved to say
nothing to Mrs. St. Clair on the subject — but to
act for myself. My mind had been made up to
suffer no personal considerations of any kind to
prevent me from avenging the foul murder of my
grandfather. So long as it was my own life
or security which had at any time been jeopar-
dized through the machinations or agency of old
Dame Betty, I was free to act as I thought fit in
shielding that woman for Zarah's sake: but now
the case was very different. It was the life of an-
other which had been taken — and that other a
near relative of my own, — he to whom I was in*
debted for a paternal care during the years of my
infancy and childhood ! Therefore was I resolute
in performing the duty which providence itself had
seemed by a variety of circumstances to have
specially confided unto me.

Two months had elapsed since the death of Mrs.
Norman ; during the latter month I had returned
to the stage ; and my health was now completely
restored after the shock it had sustained. I re-
solved to allow yet another month to elapse before
taking the steps which I had arranged in my
mind ; for at the expiration of that interval I
knew that I should have an entire week to dis-
pose of as I might think fit. Mary Glentworth
always accompanied me to the theatre, and occu-
pied one of the stage-boxes during the perform-
ance. She was however generally attended by
Beda, who was almost as much enraptured with
the dramatic proceedings as Mary herself. I did
not altogether like giving this sort of encourage-
ment to what I more than half suspected to be
Mary Glentworth's increasing taste for the stage :
but I scarcely knew how to act in an opposite
sense. She was of my own ag«, and had as much

ELLEN FERCY; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEES3.

369

FELICIA GOWER,

right to ba her own mistress as I had: and
though she certainly looked up to rae as if I had
been an elder sister, yet I could scarcely avail my.
self of this influence which I exercised for any
purpose of coercion. As for gentle suasion, I
could of course essay it if she should consult me
on any serious project that she might form in re-
ference to the stage ; but I did not choose to initi-
ate the subject — for that would have been only to
bring to an immediate issue a matter which she
might still be induced to keep at a distance.

One day Mary (Jllentworth went out shopping
in the carriage, I being compelled to attend a long
rehearsal at the theatre at the time. She was to
return and fetch me ; but she was half-an-hour
later than the appointment that she had made—
although this mattered little, for I myself was de-
No. 47.— Ellen Pebct.

tained by my professional avocations longer than X
had anticipated) A message was sent up to in-
form rae that Mary was waiting ; and in a fev#
minutes I joined her. Immediately on entering
the carriage, it struck me that there was a certain
agitation in Mary's manner — an excitement in her
looks — a heightened colour of the countenance. I
at once asked her if anything had occurred ? — and
she exclaimed, " Oh, my dear Ellen ! I have been
so insulted ! But on the other hand, I have ex-
perienced such chivalrous conduct from such a
nice young gentleman !"

"Insulted, my poor Mary?" I ejaculated. "And
who dared to insult you ?"

" I will tell you everything that has happened,"
replied Miss Glentworth. " You remember I told
you that I wanted to purchase some French books;

370

EILEN PERCY; OK, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTRESS.

aud you bade me go to a sbop in Eegent Street.
I could there only obtain two or three volumes of
the half-dozen different works that I required :
but the shop-keeper told me that I should very
likely find the others at an establishment in the
Burlington Arcade, To the Burlington Aveade |
accordingly went ; and I proceeded to the skop..
There however I failed to procure the books : but
the shopkeeper promised to get them for me from
Paris in the course of the week. 1 had never before
been to the Burlington Arcade : I therefore walked
slowly to the end, looking at the diffejjent shops.
"While thus engaged, I was accosted by an old lady,
who was very handsomely dressed, though with
more showiness than taste ; and she asked me if I
could tell her where dwelt some countess whom
she named— but I forget what name it was; for
I quickly assured her that I myself was almost a
stranger in London, and that I had no titled ac-
quaintances. She seemed anxious to engage me
in conversation ; and as she was very kini in her
manner, and seemed very lady-like, % could uot
hurry off— though I had borne in vapid your in-
junction never to form the acquaintauc© of stjcoa-
gers in the street."

"By all means, Mary," I esclaiaied, "never
forget that injunction!— for you do not know hovj;
many designing persons there are in London, and
what false hearts are concealed under fair faces
and gaudy vesture. But continue your nac-
rative."

" This old lady," proceeded Mary Glentworth,
" began to inform me that she also was a strangeii
in London— that she possessed a splendid country
seat in Yorkshire— that she had come up to town
for a few weeks — that she bad taken a beautiful
ready furnished house — and that she was now
going to caH upon this countssa whota she had
named. She added that the countess was the
widow of some great earl and a very intimate friend
of hers. She said that she had given bejj coachman
a holiday, and that this was the reason she was
on foot at the time, and thus seeking her way to
her noble lady-friend's mansion. She said that
she should be delighted to sea me at her own
house, for she liked my looks and had taken a great
fancy to me."

" But you did not believe her, Mary ?" I ex-
claimed, convinced that it was some vile designing
wretch whom my unsophisticated friend had en-
countered.

"Indeed I did!" replied Mary iagenuously :
"for her look was so composed and her discourse
so natural, that I set her down to be a lady worth
at least five or ten thousand a year. And she had
nn enormous brooch, all studded with diamonds ;
and she took off her glove— and her fingers were
covered with rings, likewise set with such beauti-
ful diamonds "

" Pieces of glass, Mary!" I ejaculated: "gems
as false as her own seductive language ! But pray
proceed."

"I must confess that the old lady produced
such an impression on my mind," continued Miss
Glentworth, " that I really pitied her on account
uf having given her coachman a holiday, and being
rondemned to walk to the mansion of her friend
Iho countess. So I was almost inclined to offer
her a seat in the carriage, when she suddenly
ilirectcd my attention to an elderly gentleman

who was looking in a shop window at a Itlle dis-
tance : and she said, • There ! that is the Marquis
of Tynedale!'"

" Ah !" I ejaculated. "I have seen that noble-
man— I have heard likewise of his charac-
ter—r-r-"

'*And it is infamous, is it not .5^" inquired
Ma>rJ^ ; "for he said such rude things to mo "

" luf^uious ittdaed !" I esclaimcd. "But, good
heavens i how indiscreet you must have been !
Tell me how it kaf pened ?"

"Praj da aot blame me, Ellon," said Mary,
taking my h^iid ^d pressing it; "for you will
see that it wa/St uot my fault. The Marquis ac-
costed the old lady, to whom he made a very
familiar bow; and then I turned away. A few
moments afterwards the Marquis of Tynedale was
by my side ; and ho at once endeavoured to get
into conversation with me. I stopped short —
looked him fuU ia the foce — aud told him that I
did not converse with strangers. But he perso-
yei;ad in addressiQg me : ks began speaking of uiy
good looks— told me that bo was rich and a

widower in a word, 5ilen, he said such things

that J felt my cheeks glowing with blushes; and
though I hurried along the arcade I could not rid
myself of him. At length I again stopped short,
and assured him that i£ he did not at once leave
me I would appeal to the first person who might
approach. At that very instant a young gentle-
man was issuing from the very bookseller's shop
where I had recently been ; and catching the
words that fell from my lips, he approached and
asked if he could render me any assistance? —
' Oh,' said the Maiquis o£ Tyiiedale, ' it is no-
thing ! This young lady and I understand each
other very well ; aud with a little more private
conversation we shall make our peace together.' —
The young genllemaa evidently comprehended
that I was being insulted ; and he said in a firm
voice, ' The young lady shall decide for herself,
whether she will remain with you, my lord ' (for
hfi evidently knew the Marquis), ' or whether she
will permit me to escort her out of the arcade.' —
'Ob, a thousand thanks i' I exclaimed : ' I wish to
be rid of the importunities of this rude noble-
man!' — Thereupon the Marquis of Tynedale
turned upon his heel, and moved off, muttering
something, I said a few hurried words of thanks
to the young gentleman: ho bowed courteously — i
and we separated. That, dear Ellen, is the his-
tory of my adventure."

"Do you not comprehend, Mary," I asked,
" that the female whom you took to be a respect-
able lady, was really a bad character— and that it
was because you bad remained in convcrsatioa
with her, she took you to be a simple country girl,
and gave the Marquis of Tynedale some hurried
hint which emboldened him to persecute you as
he did ? It was fortunate that you received such
chivalrous succour : for even in the most crowded
thoroughfares of London, and in the broad day-
light, young females are sometimes persecuted and
insulted by such wretches as that Marquis. Por
the future I beseech you to be more guarded !"

"I will, dearest Ellen," replied Mary: "it shall
be a lesson to me. But that young gentleman
who acted so well and so kindly — he was exceed-
ingly handsome — his manners were most amiable
—and he was dressed with what may be termed the

ELLEN PET?CT; OE, THE ME:M0I11S 01? AH ACTEESS.

371

most elegant simplicity. I think I have seen him
in a box at the theatre— but I am not certain,"

" He showed the delicacy of his feelings," I ob-
served, " by leaving you the instant his presence
was no longer required."

The incident which I have been relating, left a
somewhat painful impression on ray mind ; for it
afforded another proof of Mary Grlentworth's art-
lessness and inexperience ; and I thought to my-
self, " She requires a mother's care !"

I however resolved to let her go about alono as
little as possible; for though I knew her to be
virtuous and well principled, yet her exceeding
innocence was calculated to blind her eyes to the
pitfalls which in the modern Babylon are spread
by designing persons at the feet of the unsuspect-
ing. It was not however so easy for me to ac-
company her continuously whenever she went out ;
for at tiroes when my presence was needed at re-
hearsal, she would have some little shopping to do
— and I could not possibly treat her so completely
as a child as to request her to remain until I could
go with her. Thus, at the expiration of a week,
she again went alone to the Burlington Arcade,
to fetch the books which were expected from Paris.
Indeed, on several occasions within the next two
or three weeks she was left to herself for an hour
) or two at a time ; and all that I could do was to
I give her an occasional hint upon the necessity of
being most cautious in her conduct towards
strangers, and by all means to avoid suffering her-
self to bo drawn into conversation by persons
whom she might accidentally meet.

It now wanted a week to the termination of the
third month since Mrs. Norman's death ; and the
time was approaching when I was resolved to
enter upon my project for the discovery of whether
1 Mr. Parks had been an accomplice iu his mother's
crime— at least if it were possible to make that
discovery at all. I now consulted with Beda : I
admitted the faithful girl into my confidence ; and
I I asked her advice how we could best ascertain
1 whether Dame Betty was then at her cottage on
the road between Birmingham and Embledon ? —
for I did not wish to have the trouble of under-
taking an expedition into Warwickshire for no-
thing.

" I can think of no other means," replied Beda,
" than that I myself should set off into "Warwick-
shire and ascertain the point. This I can do pri-
vately, without suffering the old woman to have
the slightest suspicion that I am even in lihe
neighbourhood— much less that I am instituting
inquiries concerning her."

" You are a good girl, Beda," I said : " but I
do not like the idea of your travelling alone, or of
exposing yourself to tho possible malignity of that
old wretch."

" Ob, my dear Miss !" exclaimed Beda, " you
need not harbour the slightest apprehension on
my account. As for travelling alone, no one
would dare insult mo ; for I would very soon con-
vince tho most self-sufEcient individual that be
had better attend to his own business. And as
for the old dame herself, I fear her not !"

" Well then, Beda," I said, " you shall go : and
immediately on ascertaining that the dame is at
the cottage, you can write to me, and I will join
you. If it be otherwise, you will at once return
to London."

" But suppose, my dear Miss Percy," said Beda,
" that Dame Betty should not bo at her cottage in
Warwickshire, and that I should obtain a clue to
her whereabouts in any other district, — am I to
follow up that clue ?"

" I leave the entire matter, Beda, to your own
discretion," I answered. " At all events you will
write to me, so that I shall not experience any
uneasiness on your account :— and with this un-
derstanding you will act according to circum-
stances."

Beda's preparations for the journey were
promptly made ; and she set out upon her ex-
pedition. I bad already given Mary Glcntworth
an insight into tho matter which was thus inte-
resting me ; so that she was not sui-prised to find
that I sent off my young attendant on this jour-
ney. I accompanied Beda to the railway-station,
— Mary having remained at home in Great
Ormon'd Street on account of a severe headach.
When I had seen Beda depart, I repaired in my
carriage to Portland Place, where I had some in-
structions to give to my milliner, who resided
there. I remembered to have read, in the news-
paper of the preceding day, of some very curious
scientific invention which was being exhibited at
the Polytechnic Institution; and as I found myself
in that neighbourhood, with an hour's leisure upon
my hands, I resolved to visit the place. It was in
the afternoon ; and there were many persons as-
sembled at the Institution, — several of them being
of consequence, as the carriages waiting at the
door indicated. As I was walking through tho
galleries, stopping almost every minute to con-
template some fresh object of interest, I suddenly
heard ray name mentioned ; and I was imme-
diately accosted by the Marquis of Dalrymplc. I
treated the young nobleman with a friendly affa-
bility : for be it recollected that the overtures he
had some time past made to me were of the most
honourable description— and he had rendered mo
a signal service by procuring for me an admission
to his mother's masked ball on the occasion when
I was so anxious to warn Lady Cecilia Urban
agf.inst an alliance with Lord Frederick Ravens-
cliffe. A considerable period had elapsed since I
had last seen the young Marquis otherwise than
at the theatre ; and it now occurred to me that ho
was not looking quite so well as formerly. His
countenance was pale ; and though it was far from
having a haggard look, it was what the French
would term an expression of fatigue, as if through
the lingering effect of recent illness or of dissipa-
tion: but I could not for a moment think that it
was the latter.

" I believe, my lord," I said, after the exchange
of a few observations, "that the Duke and Duchess
have gone upon the Continent. I had the honour
of seeing their G-races at Dover some few months

back "

" Yes," replied tho Marquis ; " they are in Italy

but I did not choose to accompany thera. To

tell you the truth, my father is intolerable, with
his friend Peaseblossom and his cracked violins ;
and my mother gets more domineering every day.
Instead of allowing me greater license in propor-
tion as I gi'ew older, she seems to think it all the
moro necessary to keep mo in leading-strings. So
at tho last moment, just when she had settled
everything for our departure to the Continent, I

372

EILEW PEROT; OB, THB MEMOIHS OF AN ACTEES8.

rebelled against her mandates, to her infinite sur-
prise !"

"Your lordship did not wish to go upon the
Continent ?" I said, somewhat astonished at the
strain in which he was speaking.

" If I went, it should be alone, or at least with
some agreeable companion of my own choosing,"
he replied. "But to be constantly annoyed with
my father's frivolities— and to find myself treated
as a child by my mother — jou must admit, Miss
Percy, that this would not have been very agree-
able ! So I said pointblank I would not go upon
the Continent. My mother flew into a rage— but
it was all useless : I was proof against reproaches,
threats, and entreaties. I carried my point, and
remained in London by myself ; while all the rest of
the family have been passing the winter in Italy."

" I thought perhaps," I said, " that indisposi-
tion might have kept you in London ?"

" Indisposition ?" exclaimed the Marquis : " no-
thing of the kind ! I never was better in my life !
Bat perhaps you think I look ill ? Now, the truth
is, I was up the best part of the night, with half-
a dozen gay fellows, at the Club. We had a din-
n?r there— and I am afraid we kept it up a little
more than was strictly consistent with prudence.
Ah ! that is the bell for the lecture which is about
to commence ! It is a very slow affair— and there-
fore I shall not attend it."

" In that case, my lord, I must wish you good
afternoon : for I intend to hear the lecture."

I bowed, and passed away somewhat hastily ;
for I was not altogether pleased with the manner
and discourse of the young Marquis of Dalrymple.
It seemed to me that he had lost much of that
ingenuous frankness and amiability of manner
which used to characterize him— that he was being
gradually drawn into the vortex of fashionable dis-
sipation—and that he was even already much
changed and partially spoilt by the incipient con-
tamination. He had spoken contemptuously of
his father and rebelliously of his mother, — which I
felt convinced he would not for worlds have done
a twelvemonth back. I had now little doubt that
the paleness of his countenance was the effect of
the different life he was leading ; and though his
demeanour had been replete with the most gentle-
manly courtesy towards myself during this brief
interview, I felt pained and even distressed at
the conviction that the young Marquis had ceased
to be what he once was. I had always regarded
Lim with a friendly feeling : a more tender senti-
ment I was incapable of experiencing towards
him :— but I had felt interested in his welfare
through the belief that his character was most
estimable and his disposition most excellent. I
was therefore grieved when the conviction was
now forced upon my mind that both stood a
chance of being impaired— perhaps ruined — by the
new course of life on which he was entering.

I had not really intended to be present at the
lecture : I had merely seized upon the pretext as
a means of breaking off the conversation and se-
parating from the Marquis. I therefore deemed
it expedient to repair to the lecture-room for fear
I should again meet him anywhere in the build-
ing, in which case he might be led to fancy that I
had adopted a pretence to leave him abruptly : for
though my opinion of him was changed, yet I did
not wish to wound his feelings. The lecture-room

was already crowded when I entered it : but room
was speedily made for me — and I took my seat
amongst some ladies on one of the front benches.
Immediately behind us there were three or four
young gentlemen who had evidently come more
for the sake of whiling away the time than of hear-
ing the lecture ; for they conversed amongst them-
selves throughout the proceedings. At first I
found myself sufficiently interested in the lecture
to devote my entire attention to it : but after a
little while this attention was drawn into another
channel, as I could not help overhearing some part
of the conversation that was taking place behind
me.

"What was that you were saying, Ormond ?"
inquired one of the young gentlemen to whom I
am alluding.

"Ob, I was only observing to Trevelyan," re-
plied the one who was addressed by the name of
Ormond, " that young Dalrymple has come out
strong since his parents went abroad."

" Well, and why should he not P" ejaculated the
one whose name appeared to be Trevelyan. " Ho
has got plenty of money at his disposal : he would
be a fool not to enjoy himself and make the most
of all opportunities. He is not to be tied to the
apron strings of the Duchess all his life. For my
part, I think he has shown his spirit in severing
those bonds."

" Of course !" said the gentleman, who had first
spoken : " my opinion is precisely the same ! We
all know that the Duchess is a very imperious,
self-willed woman ; and for a long time past she
has been persecuting Herbert to settle in mar-
riage. But he seems to have no such inclina-
tion "

" On the contrary," interjected Ormond. " I
think he is like us all — rather volatile in our
tastes and our amours. At all events 'But
mind ! the affair is a secret ! for I don't want to,
spoil any friend's game, you know "

"' Well, what is it ?" inquired Trevelyan.

" Ob, only the other day," proceeded Ormond,
" I saw Dalrymple walking in a street at the
West End, with as pretty a young creature as you
could wish to set eyes upon. I could tell that it
was a stealthy meeting — for the girl looked
frightened — she kept flinging anxious glances
around, as if she feared to be observed by some
one who might know her "

" I dare say it was all a trick on her part," in-
terjected Trevelyan, "just to enhance the value of
the favour she pretended to bo showing Dal-
rymple."

" And I am convinced it was nothing of the
sort," rejoined Ormond j "for she was decidedly a
young lady: her dress— her manners— her appear-
ance, all bespoke it ! Of course I did not accost
Dalrymple while he was so pleasantly engaged :
neither did he observe that I was watching hiin.
Eest assured that it is a pretty little intrigue he
has got in hand; and therefore what with this
love-affair, and the way in which he drinks his
wine like any one of us, and loses his money like a
man at the card- table, it is quite clear that he is
determined to make up for lost time."

" I used to think him a regular milksop some
time ago," observed Trevelyan : " but of late he
has wonderfully risen in my estimation. We shall
make something of him after all."

The young gentlemen novr changed their con-
versatiou to some other subject ; and shortly after*
wards the lecture terminated. I hastened to my
carriage, and ordered the coachman to take me
home. I was much distressed at the conQrmation
I had received of mj previously awakened sus-
picions in respect to the altered character and dis-
position of the Marquis of Dalrymple. It was
only too evident that he was entering upon that
path which could not fail to lead to the destruc-
tion of all the high feelings, magnanimous notions,
and generous sentiments which he had once so
eminently possessed. I had lenrnt sufBcient to
show that he was already dissipated in respect to
wine— an incipient gambler — and I feared a se-
ducer. How changed from what he was when
first I knew him ! — when he made mo overtures of
marriage with unquestionably the most honour-
able intentions — when he had taken the part of
myself and the other performers on the night that
we were to be consigned to a separate and inferior
supper-table at Ardleigh House — or, subsequently,
when he had in so delicate a manner farthered my
projects by procuring my admission at the masked
ball ! No wonder, therefore, that I grieved to
contemplate the prospect of a young man, natu-
rally endowed with such excellent qualities, becom-
ing tainted — contaminated — and perhaps ruined,
by the infection of fashionable vices !

At the very moment I was alighting froo; the
carriage at my own door in Great Ormond Street,
I beheld a gentleman approaching, whom I thought
that I knew. I glanced at him a second time ; and
I recognised Mr. Gower, the parent of the young
lady to whom Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe was
paying his addresses at the time when I and my
father adopted such strenuous measures to compel
him to do an act of justice by espousing Juliet.
I was surprised to find Mr. Gower in London j
for when I had seen him in Stratton Street, nearly
six months back, he had informed me that it was
his intention almost immediately to leave for ever
a city where so fearful a blight had fallen upon
his child's happiness. And now as I thus glanced
at him a second time, I was not merely struck
but even shocked by the change which had taken
place in his appearance. "When I had seen him
in Stratton Street he was a portly, fine-looking
man, with a florid complexion : he now looked
thin in comparison — pale likewise — and his form
was bowed as if with grief. He walked with the
air of one who had the deep sense of much afflic-
tion. I did not like to accost him ; and I was
just turning to enter the house, when he recog-
nised me and gave utterance to my name,

" Ah ! is it you. Miss Trafford .''" he said : and
he contemplated me with a look that seemed full
of mournful reproach.

" Will you walk in and rest yourself?" I courte-
ously asked : for I thought that ho might probably
wish to speak to mc of his daughter Felicia.

He accepted the invitation without saying a
word ; and I conducted him into the dining-room,
where Mary Glentworth was never in the habit of
sitting in the afternoon part of the day, and where
I consequently knew that we should be alone to-
gether. Mr. Gower sat down with the air of a
man who was fatigued, — not worn out with much
walking, but by the incessant weight of care— that
sense of fatigue which is constantly felt when the

soul has a heavier burden than it can support. I
commiserated him profoundly : I likewise expe-
rienced an illimitable pity for his daughter : but I
could not possibly reproach myself for having
taken the step which compelled Lord Frederick
Eavenscliffe to bestow the sacred title of toife upon
my friend Juliet.

" Where does lie now reside?" was the question
which Mr. Gower abruptly put : and a sinister
expression at the same seized upon his altered,
haggard countenance.

I knew full well that he alluded to Lord Frede-
rick HavensclifiPe, although ho mentioned no name;
and I said, " His lordship resides in peaceful
seclusion with his wife, at a house which they
possess in the neighbourhood of Dover."

" Ah ! the villain has done well to leave London,
and thus shield himself from my vengeance !" said
Mr. Gower, in a deep sombre tone.

"But surely, my dear sir," I exclaimed, terrified
by the words, and even still more by the look
which had accompanied them, " you cannot dream
of vengeance when so long an interval has oc-
curred "

" My daughter's happiness is for ever ruined.
Miss Trafford," interjected the unhappy father
with the strongest emphasis. " If for an instant
you can in imagination place yourself in my posi-
tion But no! the idea is ridiculous! — of

course you cannot ! Indeed, I must tell you that
there have even been times when in my despair I
have included your name amongst those of my
daughter's enemies !"

" Your daughter's enemies, Mr. Gower ?" I
ejaculated, in astonishment. " She had but one
enemy — and that was the man whose name you
have mentioned."

" Perhaps, if I were reasonable, I should admit
that you are right," said the unfortunate father:
"but I am tiot reasonable!" — and methought
that as he thus spoke his eyes had a strange
sinister glare. " That patrician villain was my
daughter's enemy ! Juliet Worman was likewise
her enemy for having taken him from her ! And
you. Miss Trafford," he added vehemently, " were
her enemy for using the power which you pos-
sessed to bring about that catastrophe i"

" Good heavens, Mr. Gower !" I exclaimed ;
"you cannot possibly be serious!— or at least
you cannot fancy yourself to be just in making
these sweeping accusations ! For a thousand
reasons you are wrong ! My friend Juliet had a
prior claim upon Lord Frederick's honour and
good faith : I was obeying the dictates of friend-
ship in acting as I did; — and moreover, when that
young nobleman's true character became known
to you, it is impossible that you would have con-
sented to bestow your daughter upon him. Da
not therefore blame me and Juliet "

" Farewell, Miss Trafford!" interrupted the un-
happy father, rising from his seat. " I told you
that I am not reasonable ; and it were bettor there-
fore that the question should not be argued be-
tween us !"

Having thus spoken, Mr. Gjwer abruptly
quitted the apartment; and the next instant tho
front door closed violently behind him.

ELLEW PBHCT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

CHAPTEE LXrV.

Ik the morning of tho second day from the inci-
denta which I have just been relating, I received
two letters. The first was from Beda, — informing
me that Dame Betty was not at the cottage in the
neighbourhood of Birmingham — that for the pre-
sent she had succeeded in obtaining no clue rela-
tive to her whereabouts— but that she had put
matters in such a train that in the course of a day
or two she hoped to receive the intelligence which
was required. The other letter was from my friend
Juliet ; and its contents ran as follow : —

" River House, Dover,

" March 24th, 1842.

"My dearest Ellen,— Having written to you so
very lately, I do not know that I should have so
soon taken up my pen again for tho purpose of
addressing you, had I not to communicate a piece
of information which I am confident will give you
pleasure. Frederick has every chance of being
reconciled to his parents and his elder brother.
Some nnl-Hown friend is at work : but who it is
he cannot possibly surmise— and I of course am
as completely unable to assist him with a con-
jecture. Indeed, the whole affair is involved in a
strange mystery— and all the more strange, be-
cause inasmuch as mysteries are for the most
part ominous, this one seems to be very pro-
pitious. I will tell you what has happened ; and
you will see how singular but yet how promising
the occurrence appears to be.

" This morning's post brought Frederick a
letter, with the handwriting of which he is com-
pletely unacquainted. This letter was signed ' An
Unknown Feiend.' The hand is a masculine
one : the style of tho letter is frank, honest, and
evidently the language of a gentleman. It states
that the writer has viewed with regret the aliena-
tion of Frederick from his family simply on the
ground that he has contracted an alliance accord-
ing to the dictates of his own heart and to the
exclusion of those selfish considerations which too
often govern matrimonial unions. The writer de-
clares himself to be an old friend of the family,
and to possess influence with the Earl and Coun-
tess of Carshalton, as well as with Viscount
Savenscliflfe, Frederick's elder brother. He says
that he has been working in Frederick's interest,
and that nothing would afford him greater plea-
sure than to be enabled to bring about a recon-
ciliation. He thinks that the time has come when
this is to be accomplished : but he insists that
Frederick shall in all things follow his counsel to
the very letter. Should Frederick refuse to be
thus docile and obedient — or should he by his own
headstrong obstinacy mar the scheme which is set
afoot for his benefit — his unknown friend, the
writer of the letter, would be desirous to remain
still unknown ; because, in such an eventuality,
he would incur the risk of losing many friendships
which he values amongst the members of Frede-
rick's family. He therefore desires that Frederick
will go up to London to-morrow ; and at a given
hour in the evening he is to be at King's Cross in
the New Eoad. There he will learn more.

" I have now given you ah outline, dearest
Ellen, of the contents of this strange letter. Can
it be all a scandalous and disgraceful trick ? ^Ye
do not think so. Who would play such a trick ?
Lord Frederick's friends and acquaintances gene-
rally, he assures me, are not men who would con.
descend to a jest so stupid or an illusion so cruel.
Besides, it is so little known where he is re-
siding that it can really be only some one who is
within the circle of his father's acquaintance that
could have written such a letter. We therefore
regard it alike with seriousness and with hope.
At all events we both feel that no very great harm
can arise from Frederick putting the matter to the
test ; and he will accordingly repair to London
to-morrow. If he should arrive in time, he will
do himself the pleasure of calling upon you and
our dear friend Mary. But it is scarcely probable
that you will see him until the following day—
when he will be enabled to report to you the issue
of his appointment, whether real or fictitious, at
King's Cross. I candidly confess that for my part
I have every hope; and in this feeling Frederick
shares. I pray to God that it may be realized !— •
for you know how well Frederick has behaved to
me since our marriage, and how he has sought to
obliterate from my mind the impression of all his
former misdeeds.

"I received yesterday a letter from my dear
father, who is still at the cottage where ho has
secluded himself in the neighbourhood of Brussels.
He assures me that his health is excellent and that
his spirits are improving: he adds that in a week
or two he intends to proceed into Germany ; and
his present intention is to return to England in
the middle of the summer. He says that he sliall
again write to you shortly; and in the meantime
he desires me to convey everything kind on his
behalf alike to yourself and our dear Mary.

" Believe me to remain, my beloved friend,
"Tour's ever affectionately,

" Juliet Eayensclipfb."

"Then it is to day that Lord Frederick comes
to London," I said to myself when I had con-
cluded the perusal of Juliet's letter; "and it is
this evening that he is to hold his mysterious ap-
pointment at King's Cross — unless indeed it be all
a trick and a delusion 1"

I must confess that the description of the lei tor
signed by an nnJcnown friend struck me as being
most singular — indeed even suspicious. It was
natural enough that Lord and Lady Frederick
Eavenscliffe, anxious to obtain the recognition by
the Carshalton family of their marriage, should
clutch with avidity at the first straw of hope which
might seem to float towards them. But I was
enabled to sarvey the matter somewhat more dis-
passionately ; and I was not therefore so sanguine
on their behalf as thoy fnemselves were. For a
moment my thoughts settled upon Melissa Harri-
son as the authoress of the trick, if a trick it
really were ; because I knew how passionately
Melissa had at one time loved Lord Frederick,
and she might not have forgiven him for having
abandoned her when the explosion in respect to
the Marquis of Tynedale's cheque took place.
ITeverthelsss, after a little reflection, I banished
that idea : for I felt tolerably well assured that
Melissa was of a different disposition. Profligate

and depraved she might have become— but vinr
dictive ebe was not : and as for dovoting herself
to the execution of any such absurd trick as this,
I could not reconcile mj mind to that belief. Be-
sides, even if she were acquainted with Iiord Fror
derick's present place of ab )de, how bad she learnt
that be was not reconciled to bis parents, but had
vainly sought for that reconciliation ? Thus, all
things considered, I came to the conclusion that
Melissa had nothing to do with the matter ; and
I sincerely hoped for Juliet's sake, her husband
might find it was a genuine qnd straightforward
proceeding. I showed the letter to ilary Glent.
worth ; and she, with her characteristic artlessness,
at once proclaimed her couyictioa that the hope
would bo realized.

As I had not to attend the tbeatre tha,t eveniag,
I kept the dinner waiting some little time after
the usual hour, with the idea that Lord Frederick
might possibly join us at the table. But ha
did not come by six o'clock ; and therefore I con-
cluded that we should see nothing of him until the
following day. Scarcely was the dinner ov^r— it
being then a quarter to seven — when a servant en-
tered to inform me that an elderly female desired
a few minutes' interview on very pressing business.
She had been shown into the breakfast-parlour, and
thither I at once repaired. I found myself in the
presence of a respectable matron-looking woman,
having the air of a tradesman's wife, or else a supe-
rior kind of housekeeper in a genteel family. This
latter she proved to be, for she announced heraelf
as housekeeper to Mr. Gower. I saw that she
was labouring under some grief; and I spoke
kindly to her, desiring her to be seated and to ex-
plain the object of her visit.

" The day before yesterday Mr. Gower saw you.
Miss Trafiford," said the matron ; " he told me that
he did— that he was here with you — in this very
bouse— and he fears that he spoke most angrily and
mos^ unreasonably "

" I can make every allowance," I said, " for the
wounded feelings of a father; and though I was
hurt by the charges which he levelled against my-
self and my friend Lady Frederick Eavenscliffe, yet
I was inspired by no anger in return— and I bear no
rancour now."

" I know bow amiable is your disposition. Miss
Trafford," replied the matron ; " and Miss Gower"
—here she stopped for a moment, as if well nigh
choked with grief at the mention of the name of
her young mistress,—" and Miss Gower," she con-
tinued, " has heard so much good said of you that
she regrets she should not long ago have made
your acquaintance."

"I should be delighted to know Miss Gower," I
rejoined ; " and if by the effusion of the sincerest
sympathy I could mitigate her afflictions "

" Oh, it is this sympathy which she requires !"
exclaimed the housekeeper. " She is in a sad
low desponding condition — at times she is nervous
and irritable if she cannot have her slightest whim
gratified — and it is on account of one of these
humours that I have taken the liberty of intruding
myself upon your presence now."

" Eest assured," I hastened to exclaim, " that if
I can in any way afford Miss Gower the slightest
relief from her sufferings •"

"You can, Miss Trafford!" ejaculated the
housekeeper. "Ever since her father returned

home the diy before yesterday after his interview
with you, she has been expressing her regret that
he did not invite you to the house. And it has
cut my poor young mistress to the quick to think
that her father should have spoken in terms so
angry and uojust towards you! — you who only
did your duty to your friend Mr. Norman's
daughter, and sought not wilfully to do the
slightest injury towards Felicia !"

" Oh, no-;-never !" I esolaimed emphatically.
" But tell pae, what can I now do "

" I scarcely dare ask so great a favour," re-
sumed the housekeeper : " but poor Felicia begged
that I would come— — her father likewise 8 oat his
earnest entreaties——"

" I assent to whatsoever you have to demand," I
siaid, " even before you explain yourself — for I am
confident that neither Mr. Gower nor his daughter
would ask anything with which I may not
camply."

" It is simply that you will pay Miss Gower a
visit without further delay," rejoined the matron.
"She is fretting to make your acquaintance "

" Oh ! if this be all," I exclaimed, " it is a
favour easily granted. I will go with you,
directly ! But tell me," I suddenly ejaculated, as
a painful idea struck me, '•' is Miss Gower ill .P— is
she in any danger that she is thus anxious to sea
me so abruptly ?"

" Alas, Miss !" replied the housekeeper, " the
health of my poor young mistress is very feeble-
she keeps her own chamber— there is indeed dan-
ger and to be candid with you, she has aa

idea that her end is approaching, and that if she
sees you not this evening she will never see
you !"

" Ob, I will go to the poor young lady !" I
cried: "I will order my carriage immediately!"

" It is needless, Miss," responded the house-
keeper. " I have a cab at the door, if you will
condescend to use it."

" I will go with you immediately !" I said : and
I hastened from the room.

I sped to my chamber — put on my bonnet and
shawl — and then looked into the drawing-room
for a moment, to tell Mary Glentworth that I
should be absent for an hour or two. I rejoined
the housekeeper ; and we entered the cab, which
immediately drove away.

" Does Mr, Gower still live in Stratton Street ?"
I as'ied : " has he been all the time in London .^— •
or has he only recently returned from his country-
seat ?"

" He has recently returned from his country-
seat," replied the matron ; " and as he had given
up the house in Stratton Street, which he only
occupied temporarily, he is now residing in a far
more secluded neighbourhood ; for he wished that
his daughter should be removed from that fashion-
able sphere in the midst of which the blight of
unhappiness fell upon her."

" And it was natural enough," I observedi
" Where does he now reside F"

"In Pentonville," responded the housekeeper.
" We have not very far to go."

In a short time the cab stopped in front of a
moderate-sized house belonging to a terrace at the
farther extremity of Penton Street ; and we
alighted. The front door was opened by a fsraale
domestic, nearly as old as the one whom I had

376

El.t^I'' PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS.

accompanied thither. She said not a word; and
the housekeeper led me up a narrow staircase to
the drawing-room. This apartment was only
modestly furnished : — indeed, as much as I had
hitherto seen of the habitation contrasted strongly
with the splendour of the appointments belonging
to the house in Stratton Street. The matron re-
tired ; and in a few moments Mr. Gower made
his appearance.

The first glance which I flung upon his coun-
tenance startled and even a£frighted me ; for his
face was deadly pale. It was indeed a ghastly
pallor which sat upon those cheeks that once were
florid with robust health and good living. It
struck me too that there was a strange sinister
light shining in the depth of his eyes ; and for a
moment I almost fancied that I must have been
inveigled into some snare. But that apprehen-
sion as rapidly passed away, when, speaking in a
low, mild, kind voice, Mr. Gower said, " This is
most generous of you. Miss Trafford, after the
rude, unjust, and ungentlemanly manner in which
I addressed you the day before yesterday. But
doubtless you have made allowances "

" All possible allowances, Mr. Gower !" I ex-
claimed. "This assurance I have already given
your housekeeper — and I now repeat it to you.
Besides, the best proof that I do not feel offended
by what you said, is that I am here now. Tell
me, Mr. Gower — how fares it with your daughter ?
— for I am afraid the worthy matron whom you
sent to me was endeavouring to conceal the depth
of grief that was agitating her '"

"Yes — no wonder!" interjected Mr. Gower;
"for she has loved my daughter ! — loved her as if
Felicia were her own child ! But come ! let me
conduct you to Felicia's chamber."

I rose from the seat which I had taken ; and I
followed Mr. Gower from the apartment. We
ascended another flight of stairs ; and on reaching
a door which evidently belonged to a back room,
be paused for a few moments : his fingers clutched
the handle convulsively : I observed that he stag-
gered against the door-post — and a violent agita-
tion appeared to have taken possession of him.
The idea struck me that his daughter Felicia must
indeed be much worse than the housekeeper had
represented , and again did I experience the utmost
commiseration for this unhappy father. But when
I glanced at his countenance, its expression struck
me as so singular— indeed, I will again use the
word sinister— th&t a vague terror seized upon
me. I felt frightened as if smitten with a presen-
timent of evil, though I knew not of what. I was
about to address Mr. Gower, to say something
that might elicit an explanation — for I felt as if L
were labouring under a fear of which I sought to
be relieved, — when he slowly opened the door ; and
in a low deep voice he requested me to pass into
the chamber.

I crossed the threshold. The room was a small
one, and furnished in the style of a lodging-house.
A light was burning dimly there : it was a mean
candle-lamp standing upon a night-table by the
side of the bed ; and around this bed all the cur-
tains were closed. A profound silence reigned in
the room : there was no movement behind those
curtains — no hand was stretched forth to draw
them back in order that the occupant of the couch
might see who was entering ; so that for a mo-

ment I thought that Felicia slept — but the next
instant the idea seized upon my mind that she
was dead.

I looked round towards Mr. Gower : but he was
outside in the passage ; and at the very moment I
thus glanced' behind me, he was opening an oppo-
site door. Again, and with renewed force, re-
turned the idea that I had been inveigled into
some snare, and that mischief was intended me.
Mr. Gower's sinister looks — the circumstances
under which I had been brought to this house —
the appearance of the house itself, so inconsistent
as a dwelling-place with that gentleman's known
wealth — the silent chamber in the midst of which
I stood — the dim light — and the closely drawn
curtains of that couch— all combined to strike my
soul with vague apprehension and horror !

"Let him come forth now !" said Mr. Gower, as
he threw open the door facing the chamber in
which I found myself.

" What is the meaning of all this ? I insist
upon knowing!" exclaimed a voice from within
that opposite room : — and this was the voice of
Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe !

Then was I convinced that some dreadful scene
was in preparation; for to my memory flashed the
vindictive words which Felicia's father had uttered
when at my house the day but one previous— the
mysterious contents of the letter which had brought
Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe to London — and his
presence there in that habitation — everything con-
firmed in a moment all the vague terrors and pre-
sentiments of evil which I had previously experi-
enced. A cry of alarm rose up to my lips; but
there it was stifled before it found utterance, — for
an awful consternation seized upon me with para-
lysing efiect as I glanced towards the silent cur-
tained couch on the one hand, and then beheld
Lord Frederick Eavenscliflfe issuing from the op-
posite room on the other hand. Two ill-looking
men — coarsely dressed, and having the air of the
vilest ruflSans that could possibly be lured away
from the lowest metropolitan dens, to do some
dreadful work for a golden bribe — had him in
their custody, one holding him forcibly by the
right arm, and the other by the left.

" Good heavens, Mr. Gower !" I exclaimed, my
tongue being now loosened ; " what would you
do?"

"Ah, Miss Percy ! is it you?" cried Lord Fre-
derick in astonishment, as he now recognised me.
" What pitfall have we tumbled into ?"

" Silence !" exclaimed Mr. Gower, in a stern
commanding voice ; " and enter this chamber
softly. — Unhand him ! but remain close outside
the door— and await the signal !"

The mandates contained in the latter part of
the speech were addressed to the two men who had
the young nobleman in their custody ; and they
at once released Lord Frederick from their grasp.
For a moment, on thus regaining his liberty, he
looked quickly around him, as if seeking for the
means of escape: but Mr. Gower said, "Beware
how you attempt anything in contravention of
my wishes! — for you see that you are powerless
here !"

The two ruffian-looking men urged Lord Fre-
derick into the chamber, which Mr. Gower like-
wise entered ; and then the door was closed.
Nearly sinking with affright — but now again

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF XS ACTEES8

unable to give utterance to a word — I glanced
in terror from the pale, rigid, sinister features of
Mr. Gower, to the anxious excited countenance
of Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe ; and then I shud-
deringly flung my regards towards the bed with
the closed curtains. Fearfully ominous was the
silence which still reigned behind those curtains;
and my soul had the inward conviction that it
was nut the silence of sleep on the part of any
one who might be there ! ^^

" I am about to show you your victim," said
Mr. Gower, speaking in a tone which was terrible
in its mingled mournfulness and its deep vindic-
tiveness. " Behold her !"

He advanced towards the couch — he drew aside
the curtains— aud the feeble light of the lamp
threw its sickly rays upon the marble countenance
of Felicia. There she lay, a corpse ! But her's
was not the only countenance on which fell those
pale feeble beams : they showed likewise the tiny
No. 48.— Ellen Pbecy.

face of au infant -also a corpse! The babe lay

by Felicia's side ; and with a moan of indescribable

horror, I staggered against the wall, to which I

leant for support.

" My God :" murmured Lord Frederick Eavens-

cliffe : " is it so ?"— and his accents were full of

the bitterest anguish.

But what a revelation was this to me !— for I

now comprehended it all. The unfortunate Fe-
licia had been rendered the victim of a far deeper
villany on Lord Frederick's part than I had ever
suspected or dreamt of. Hence this seclusion in
which she had died— hence the fearfully altered
appearance of her father— hence the terribly vin-
dictive words which he had used at my house—
and hence the appalling scene which he had pre-
pared for myself and the seducer now !

" There lies my Felicia 1" he said, in a voice that
was tremulous with anguish ; " my beloved child
— murdered, Lord Frederick Eavenscliffe, by your

378

ELLEN PEECX; OB, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTKES8.

unparalleled villany ! Does not such a deed as this
demand vengeance P"

" Vengeance P" echoed the young noblemen, ter-
ribly agitated and excited. " Beware of what you
are doing, Mr. Gower I I know that my sin is
great j but the law permits not you to avenge
it!"

"Talk not to me of the law !" said the bereaved
father, — " you who have trampled upon every law,
moral, religious, and divine !"

" But I am innocent !" I exclaimed, springing
forward to throw myself at Mr. Gower's feet : " you
cannot accuse me of any wilful wrong perpetrated
towards your daughter 1 I have pitied her— God
/ knows that I have pitied her ! And now I could
weep for her fate ! And, O Lord Frederick !
your's has indeed been a terrible sin— a heinous
crime ! — and I loathe you— I hate you ! Monster
cf a man that you are !— i^i^d to think that you
should bo the husband of my fri«3nd !"

"Yes — the husband of yo.uy friend," aai^ Mr.
Gower in a tone of the bittcrost reproach ; '^ and
made so by your coercive influences !"

" I will not rawain here 1" cried Lord Frederick,
who now seemed perfectly wild with horror, shauie,
remorse, and Apprehension. " I y/,i[\ go ! 1 insist
that this doof shall bo opened — ox I wiU lueak it
down!"

He threw himself violei\tly against jt; bwt it
withstood the shock. The* he rushed towards the
window, exclaiming frantically, " I will cry fox as-
sistance !"

" Just heavens 1" I murmurect, ** what » scene
for a chamber of death I"

" Dure not open your Kps, t<x c|j for sixocour,"
ejaculated Mr. Gower ; '* or by t^e Jiving God,
1 will stretch you d%«*4 U|pioa th® o*rpet at the
foot of the couch oii whii^h lies y<mir yJotim !"

"Oh, this is fearfuU'^ j ;»urmured, tottering to
a seat— for my brai^ yfSkS Teeliog, as I caught sight
of a braco of jk\stoi3 whiei^ Mr. Gower suddenly
produced and wlxich ha ju'esfcnted at the head of
the young nobleman.

Lord Frederick was appalled and stricken with
dismay : he staggered back from the window to
which he had rushed — no sound escaped his lips —
he evidently felt that he was in the power of a des-
perate man — and his spirit was utterly crushed
within hira.

" JSTow listen to me, both of you !" said Mr.
Gower, in the stern voice of one who felt that he
was enacting the part of a judge — self- constituted
it is true, but for the time ail-powerful— and about
to pronounce sentence. " I do not seek your
lives — they are safe ! Do not think T would have
your blood upon my head I Wo, Frederick lla-
venscliffe — I am not a murderer as you have been!
— 3/oit, a twofold murderer! — the murderer of her
whom you maflo your victim ! — the murderer of
your child! Yes — by your conduct — so vilely
treacherous, so unspeakably diabolic — have you
committed this twofold murder ! Eeep your hor-
rible reputation ! God knows I seek not to
emulate it !"

There was a pause : it was an awful one. That
desperate man sought not our lives : but he was
evidently prepared to wreak some deadly ven-
geance. What did he mean to do ?

" First ol' all," he continued, " I will address
myself to you, Miss Percy — for such I understand

your real name to be. You compelled this man
to espouse your friend — you therefore alienated
from my daughter him who ought to have become
her husband. Perhaps you were right in one re-
spect : but still I cannot do otherwise than hate
you. When I left your house the evening before
last, I returned hither to find that all was over.
My daughter had perished in giving birth to the
ofTspriug of her shame ! Then did I resolve to
be avenged ; anil within the same hour which
crowned all my affliction, I penned the letter which
I knew would have the effect of bringing this guilty
man to London. On hirn a severe vengeance must
be wreaked ! With regard to yourself. Miss Percy,
my revenge is appeased in ^■enderiug yon the spec-
tatress ot all that is now passing. Look, then, at
that couch ! Behold i^e cold reaaaius of her who
would have become thia w^a's hiide, bad you nut
interfered !"

"Oh, Mr. Gower!" I exclaimed, bursting into
tears, "this is most uojjust on your part ! When I
saw you in Str^tton Street, you ^■eproached me
not — you acknowledged that I had acted ri;jhtly —
you thanked mo for the sympathy I displayed —
you offered to introduce me to your daughter —
and you assured me that eyen if Lord Frederick
had not become the husbiud of another, he should
not have led your daughter to ths siltar. Then
why upbraid mo now ?"

" Qh, because everything \% sa 8ign^^lly changed
since then !" exelaivued Mr. Gower ; " for I knew
not at the time the extent Qf the infernal wick-
edness which thiik n>aa had perpetrated towards

my poor child -I knew »al that ia every sense

she was his victio^ 1"

" And now, in the pvnsei(>oe of the remains of
your daughter," I hastily ejaoulated, — " through
respect for her memory, I ooinjure you not to dese-
crate the chamber of death •"

" Silence, Miss Percy ! You know not to whom
you are speaking ! I am not the same man whom
yon saw ia Stratton Street. My form is altered by
affliction ; and a fiend has taken possession of my
soul ! I have sworn what to do— and I will do it.
The moment for vengeance is come !"

This last sentence he spoke in a loud voice : it
was evidently the signal which the men outside
on the landing had to obey. The door was opened;
and they entered. Lord Frederick Eiveiiscliff;} —
no doubt agonized by the horrible uncertainty as
to what terrific punishment might be in store for
him — rushed towards the couch, as if that bed
itself on which reposed the remains of his victim
and his child, would afford hira the protection of
a sanctuary. But the two men seized upon him:
he was as an infant in their powerful grasp. His
hands were bound behind him— a gag was thrust
into his mouth — and he was forced to sit down in
a chair. All this was but the work of a few mo-
ments J — and the very instant that the young
nobleman was thus seized upon, Mr. Gower rang
a bell. Then there was a pause— another awful
silence — which was broken by myself. My brain
was reeling with iudescribable horror and vague
affright; so that I have not now a clear recollec-
tion of what I said to Mr. Gjwer; but I think
that I must have addressed him somewhat in the
following strain : —

" For God's sake reflect on what you are about
to do ! I do not know what it is — but I feel that

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIKS OF AN ACTEESS.

379

it is somethinfT dreadful ! That mau's crime has
been enormous : but neither the laws of heaven
nor earth permit you to take the task of vengeance
into your own hands ! Your deeply injured
daughter is now an angel in heaven; and in the
sphere whence she is looking down upon us, she
deprecates and does not encourage the thought of
revenge. Vengeance will not restore her to you !
Leave this sinful man to his own conscience ! Kest
assured that he will from that source receive pun-
isbraeut severe enough !"

'' Silence, Miss Percy !" interrupted Mr. G-ower,
with a stern implacable voice : "it is not for you
to intercede — you whom I regard as one of those
who have helped to kill my daughter !"

While he was yet speaking, the sounds of heavy
footsteps were heard rapidly ascending the stairs ;
and an odour of something burning at the same
time reached my nostrils. I glanced towards
the passage : a vivid glare was thrown upon its
walls — and a cloud of smoke swept into the
chamber. The next instant a man — as ruffian-
looking as the other two — appeared upon the
threshold of the door, which was standing open ;
and he carried a brazier, in which charcoal and
coals were burning. Grood Grud ! what did he
mean to do? or what was to be done.'' I again
essayed to speak — but I could not: my tongue
clave to the roof of my mouth — I was over-
whelmed by the direst, most appalling horror. I
threw myself at Mr. Gower's feet: he heeded rae
not— and 1 sank against a piece of furniture,
clasping my bands — unable to rise — and with my
looks Used in hideous fascination upon the whole
scene that was passing before me.

" Wretch !" exclaimed Mr. Gower, thus ad-
dressing the young nobleman, who was held
powerless in the chair — bound and gagged — and
quivering visibly from head to foot, — " wretch !
you have availed yourself of the personal beauty
which God has given you, — you have availed
yourself of it, I say, for the vilest of purposes !
But you shall do so no more : for that beauty of
your's — I will mar it ! Into the world shall you
go forth as another Cain, with a brand upon your
brow. Thus, it is not merely a vengeance which
I wreak — but it is a safeguard which I guarantee
to society. If Satan takes the shape of an angel,
let the brand be placed upon the brow of the
illusive form, so that the unwary may not be be-
guiled! And now let the work be done !"

I can scarcely describe the state in which I lay
upon the floor, with my head supported by the
chest of drawers against which I had sunk down.
I longed to cry out — to send shrieks pealing forth
from my lips : but I could not. It was a kind of
tctanos which had possession of me — a trance in
which my limbs were paralysed and my tongue
rendered useless, but in which all my other facul-
ties still retained their keenest vitality. I could

hear, and see, and understand Good God!

how I wished that completest unconsciousness
could at once overwhelm me !

And then a horrible scene took place. There
sat the young nobleman— gagged and pinioned —
powerless, yet writhing in the grasp of the two
ruffians who held him, one by the shoulders, the
other by the feet. And there stood the dead Fe-
'icia's father, his countenance fierce and implacable
like that of an avenging fiend. And then that man

who had brought in the brazier, drew forth from
it an iron the extremity of which was in a state of
white heat ; and the ruffian, clutching with his
huge fist the long dark curling hair of the
wretched young nobleman, held his head back
over the chair. Then to his forehead he applied
the branding instrument.

Up to this point a horrible fascination had kept
my looks riveted, upon the appalling, ghastly
scene: but now, with a dread convulsing shudder,
I closed my eyes, and a hollow moan escaped my
lips:— but to no louder sound could I give utter-
ance. Then a still greater faintness came over
me — the room and everything it contained ap-
peared to be turning round — my thoughts fell into
confusion — I lost the power of discrimination—
and yet there was a sense of stupendous horror
sitting upon my soul like a weight of lead. From
this condition I was suddenly startled up by
a moan of the most rueful anguish that ever
came from the lips of a human creature. I
opened my eyes, and then I beheld a scene which
was indeed a terrible sequence to all the preceding
horrors. Lord Frederick's hands were now un-
bound— the gag was taken from his mouth — he
was still sitting ia the chair — and Mr. Gower was
holding a small looking-glass before him in such
a manner that the wretched young nobleman
might contemplate the brand which had been in-
delibly impressed upon his brow. The features of
the avenging father of Felicia expressed a diabo-
lical malignity — the triumphant satisfaction of a
fiend who has succeeded in accomplishing some
wickedness more than usually diabolic. And
there was the miserable Ravenscliffe, seated in
that chair, to which he appeared riveted by the
thousand fearful sensations which were crushing
and overwhelming him ! — there he sat, with the
terrible mark of the searing iron upon his brow— •
the looking-glass reflecting his countenance of
marred and ruined beauty ! Notwithstanding all
his crimes I felt for him at that moment; — yes, I
felt deeply : but I dared not sufier myself to think
of what Juliet's anguish and horror would be when
she sljould behold her husband returning to her in
such an awful state and should learn the reason
for which a terrific vengeance had branded him as
a felon !

" Monster !" suddenly ejaculated Eavenscliffe,
starting up from the chair, and levelling the word
with the bitterest, keenest spite at Mr. Gower.

Then the young nobleman gave vent to a shriek
in which there were alike the vibrations of physical
and mental agony ; and throwing himself upon his
knees, he rested his countenance upon the seat
of the chair, sobbing and weeping, moaning and
lamenting with a degree of anguish that was ter-
rible to contemplate and terrible now to think of.
Felicia's father was indeed horribly avenged 1

" There are laws in England, sir," exclaimed
Havenscliffe, suddenly starting up from the kneel-
ing posture into which he had sunk down; " and
their vengeance shall overtake you, merciless mis-
creant that you are?"

" Go and invoke the aid of those laws," said
Mr. Gower in accents of scornful defiance. "You
may leave this house at any moment you think
fit. Best assured that I shall not seek in flight to
evade the consequences of the vengeance which I
have wreaked. You will find me here if you want

380

ELLEX PESCY; OE, XHB MKMOIE3 O? JJX ACTEE38.

me. Go and display jour brand to the first
policemaa whom tou meet ; and tell him who has
done it ! But remember that in thi3 case I shall
likewise have a tale to tell, — a tale of how a be-
loved and only child was ruined and murdered by
him who deserved to be thus branded for his black
and hideous iniquity !"

Lord Frederick Eavenseliffe had reflected in
deep anguish for a few minutes while Mr. G-ower
was thus speaking ; and by the quivering of the
young nobleman's ashy white lips, by the work-
ings of his features, and by the convulsive clench-
ings of his two hands, it was easy to comprehend
how bitter, how fearful, and how harrowing were
his thoughts. At length he said, fixing a ghastly
look upon Mr. Gower, "Am I to unierstand that
this is a ven^eanco which is to be proclaimed to
the whole world, or that it is a secret to be con-
fined to the four walls within whose compass the
tremendous deed has been accomplished ?"

" It is for you to decide," answered Mr. Gower.
" I have no inclination to parade before the world
my daughter's degradation and disgrace ; — and as
for my vengeance in respect to yourself, it is now

"Then may I hope," cried Eavensclifife, clutch-
ing at the idea as the only solace which remained
for his horrible position, — " may I hope that the
secret will be kept, and that any tale I may choose
to tell to account for this " — and he shudderingly
indicated with his finger the burning mark upon
his brow — " will pass uncontradicted ?"

" You may rely upon it," answered Mr. Gower.
" In the first instance the unfortunate dead can-
not speak :" — and he pointed towards the couch
where reposed the remains of his daughter and the
offspring of her shame. " In the second place
these men" — and he now glanced round upon the
three ruffians — " will faithfully fulfil whatsoever
mandate I give them. In the third place, there
ia Miss Percy, who can speak for herself."

"Would to heaven," I exclaimed, almost in a
frenzy of nervous horror at what had taken place,
"that I could from my memory banish the whole
hideous spectacle as completely as if it had never
occurred 1"

"Then let secrecy be maintained," said Eavens-
eliffe. " It is the only consolation, Mr. Gower,
which your horrible vengeance leaves me ! If I
have wronged you much, the chastisement you
have inflicted ia more than commensurate with
that injury !"

" Ah ! since you speak thus," said Mr. Gower,
" you will permit me to deliver my own senti-
ments ere we part. You young men of rank and
fashion have brought your vices to such a point
that you look upon the seduction of innocence as a
pleasant pastime, scarcely to be regarded as a
fault, and too insignificant to be followed by re-
morse. But if every father whose daughter is
thus outraged, were to take the law into his own
hands and inflict a punishment as terrible as his
imagination can suggest or as his power can accom-
plish, the cause of morality would be benefited.
The punishment I have inflicted may seem hor-
rible, barbarous, savage, and ferocious, simply be-
cause the offence which provoked it has unfor-
tunately come to be regarded as something of a
very venial character. I have taught you a dif-
ferent lesson i and it would be well if your branded

I countenance could be exposed as a warning to all
the gay, reckless, dissipated young libertines who
go prowling about like wolves to devour the inno-
cent and the unwary. And now, my lord, de-
part ! We have seen enough of each other
and heaven grant that we may never meet
again !"

The wretched young nobleman reeled forth from
the chamber, and descended to the drawing-room.
Thither I mechanically followed him, — though my
own feelings were so stupified by horror, so
numbed by consternation and dismay, that I had
not even so much as a sentiment of curiosity to
ascertain what course he would now under cir-
cumstances adopt. !N^o one else accompanied us to
that room : we were alone there together.

I threw myself upon a seat, whence in speech"
less stupefaction I surveyed that young nobleman
who had become the victim of his own misdeeds
and of the terrific vengeance which he had drawn
down upon his head. At first he paced to and
fro in an agitation that was so violent it seemed
beyond the reach of any soothing power. Then
he advanced towards the mirror : but he recoiled
with the ghastliest horror from the reflection
of the vivid red deeply-seared mark which had
been indelibly imprinted upon his brow.

"My God! my God!" he murmured, wringing
his hands in despair, as he threw himself upon a
seat : then he rocked himself to and fro for some
minutes, moaning, lamenting, and lowly ejaculat-
ing " My God ! my God !" until all of a sudden
he started up, and accosting me, demanded,
" Shall you tell Juliet everything ?"

" You are her husband, my lord," I responded,
" and I am only her friend. You therefore have
a far greater right than I to dictate how Juliet ia
to be dealt with in existing circumstances. Ter-
rible as your crimes have been, yet God knowa
your punishment is sufficient ;— and if punishment
in this world be meant as an atonement, your aia
towards Felicia Gower has been atoned for !"

" Then you will say nothing to Juliet of all
this ?" continued Eavenseliffe ; " and you will
suffer me to tell some tale which may account for
this hideous calamity which has overtaken me?"

" I shall do nothing that can interfere with
whatever amount of happiness Juliet may expe-
rience from her marriage with you. Of this rest
assured, my lord," I emphatically added.

He turned away without thanking me. I could
well understand that his was now a state of mind
which made him look upon the whole world with
loathing, and that no pleasant word could come
from his lips. He took off his black silk neck-
cloth and thence tore a long strip. From his
white cambric kerchief he next tore a smaller
piece, which he placed upon the horrible mark ;
and I saw him shudder with the pain of the
cambric coming in contact with the raw seared
flesh. Then around his head he fastened the
black band ; and again he glanced at the mirror
to survey his present aspect.

" ^ow may I take my departure from this
house of horror and abomination !" — he said in
accents of deepest concentrated bitterness : " and
may all the most terrible curses which human lipj
can invoke from heaven or from hell rest upon
it!"

He put on his hat, and hastened from tl:e room,

without taking anj farther notice of me. I heard
the front door close violently ; and then I mjself
thought of issuing from the house; for now that
I was alone, I experienced a vague terror as I
thought of the vindictive father of Felicia, the
three ruffians whom he had hired to do his fearful
bidding, and the horrible apparatus of the fur-
nace and the searing irons. I staggered down the
staircase, holding by the banisters to support my-
self. My tongue was parched: I endured the
agony of burning thirst — my throat seemed as if
I had been swallowing ashes : I should have paused
to solicit a glass of water, only that I was afraid
to remain any longer beneath that roof. Great
was the relief I experienced when issuing forth
into the fresh air; and engaging the first cab
which I found unoccupied, I proceeded homeward.
It was with the utmost difficulty that I could so
far compose my countenance and subdue my horri-
fied feelings, when again finding myself with
Mary Glentworth, as to avoid exciting her sus-
picion that something horrible had occurred ;
and when I was alone in my chamber, I gave
Tent to my emotions in a long fit of weeping.

CHAPTEK LXV.

PSIEBSFIELD.

Thbeb days afterwards I received a letter from
my friend Juliet ; and it was with trembling hand
that I opened it. T|ie contents ran as follow :-~

« Eiver House, Dover,
« March 28, 1842.
"Mt dearest Ellen,— I write to you in a
perfect agony of mind ; and I wish to heaven that
you were here to offer me your consolations, as
you have on previous occasions done with a true
sisterly affection when sorrows and afflictions have
overwhelmed me. It was all a vile trick, that
letter signed by an unknown friend, and which
took Frederick up to London. He kept the ap-
pointment at King's Cross : he waited and waited,
but no one came. He was returning to his hotel
in the deepest despondency— no longer daring to
entertain a hope that there was any sincerity in
the letter which had brought him to London —
when be was destined to meet with an accident
that might have proved fatal. So deeply was he
absorbed in his painful reflections at having been
made the dupe of so cruel a trick, that he paid no
attention to the danger of walking unguardedly
through the crowded thoroughfares of London.
He was suddenly knocked down by some passing
vehicle ; and his forehead came with such violent
concussion against the sharp kerb-stone that it
was laid completely open. He was lif'.ed in a
Btate of unconsciousness, and conveyed to the
nearest surgeon's. There it was ascertained that
the frontal bones wtfre severely injured ; and the
scar which the wound must leave behind it, will
prove indelible. Poor Frederick !— he assures me
that he has suffered horribly. He returned home
yesterday with a black bandage round his head,
and in such a state of nervousness and mental
agitation that I almost fear bis very reason has
received a shock from which he will perhaps never

completely recover. He knows that his good
looks are for ever spoilt ; and though I have said
all I could to console him, yet he most deeply
feels the calamity. He talks wildly of being com-
pelled to wear a black bandage for the remainder
of his life : but this I should hope and think will
be unnecessary — for the appearance of a scar must
prove less unsightly than a sable ribbon tied ever-
lastingly over the brow. He will not suffer Mr.
Singleton the surgeon to be sent for : he says that
he consulted an eminent London physician, who
has given him a prescription together with all the
necessary instructions for the treatment of his
wound.

" I cannot help thinking, dear Ellen, that I am
born to experience calamity. After a brief in-
terval of happiness in my marriage state I am
now doomed to find my husband writhing under
the sense of a sad disfigurement. I should bow-
ever tell you that I have not yet seen the wound ;
and he has earnestly entreated that I will not
seek to look upon it, nor to interfere when he
would fain be alone in his dressing-room to treat
it according to the instructions of the London
physician. I have promised to comply with all
his wishes; — and indeed this is the more neces-
sary as I cannot conceal from myself the fact that
the occurrence has made a very strong impression
upon his mind. At his age and with his remark-
ably handsome countenance it is indeed a sad
thing to be so disfigured !

"Yet even while I am thus writing, the idea is
gradually stealing into my mind that under the
wise dispensations of heaven those occurrences
which we look upon as the direst calamities 'may
often turn out to our advantage. Who knows
but that this incident may have the effect of rivet-
ing the bonds which attach Frederick to the
peaceful seclusion of the life which we are lead-
ing P — who knows but that the seeming misfortune
may furnish me with additional opportunities of
proving my devotion to him? Yes— there is no
case so desperate as to be without some species of
hope ; and at all events it ia our duty to submit
to the dispensations from above.

" Farewell for the present, my dearest Ellen ;
and believe me ever your sincerely affectionate
friend,

" Juliet Eavensclifpb,"

I was by no means surprised to find that the
young nobleman had concocted such a tale as that
which was now communicated to me. Indeed, for
Juliet's sake, I was glad that he had discovered
some means of concealing from her the terrible
truth. I wrote her a letter in reply, condoling
with her on her sorrows, but not committing
myself to such an extent as to veil my knowledge
of their actual source beneath any deliberate false-
hood.

In the forenoon of that same day on which I
received Juliet's letter, I was walking at no great
distance from my own house, when at the corner
of a street I encountered the matron-looking dame
who had beguiled me to Mr. Gower'a abode. She
endeavoured to pass me hurriedly, as if she did not
notice my presence : but I stopped her, and at once
said in a reproachful tone, " How was it possible
that i/ou, a respectable female, and with looks
which are very far from denoting a cruel disposi-

tioD, could have lent yourself to that savage act of
vengeance ?"

" Miss Percy," responded the housekeeper, " I
loved poor Felicia as much as if she were my own
daughter ; and that assurance is perhaps sufficient
to explain my complicity in the punishment that
was inflicted upon a villain. Frankly do I confess
that for yourself I experienced an immense sym-
pathy : but my master was resolute in rendering
you the spectatress of that scene— and I dared not
disobey him. I however exacted from his lips the
most solemn pledge that no injury should be done
unto yourself ;—aud that promise was fulfilled."

" But do you not think it was very, very cruel to
become an accomplice even to that extent, — thereby
rendering me the witness of so awful a spectacle P
Yet doubtless you were acting under the coercive
influence of Mr. Gower, who is evidently a man

of implacable disposition "

" What, Miss Percy ?" exclaimed the woman ;
" would you vindicate the cause of the villain
Eavenscliffe against that of the ruined and
perished Felicia ?"

" Heaven forbid !" I responded : " but though
the right of punishment belongs to society at
large, represented by its Government, the right of
vecgeiince belongs to no individual. We will not
however discuss the subject, which is a most pain-
ful one. Do you happen to know how Lord Fre-
derick Eavensclifife was induced to proceed to Mr.
Gower's house P"

" An appointment was made for him at King's
Cross," replied the matron; "and ho kept that
appointment. While standing there, he was ac-
costed by my husband, who is Mr. Gower's butler,
and who, as well as myself, was in the whole secret.
My husband inquired if he had the honour of

speaking to Lord Frederick EavenscliS"e "

"Did not his lordship recognise your husband,"
I asked ; " inasmuch as he was at one time a coU'
slant visitor in Stratton Street?"

" Neither my husband nor mys.lf were ever at
Stratton Street : we remained at our master's
country-seat while he and poor Miss Felicia came
to London on the first occasion,"

" Then it is really true that your master and his
deceased daughter went home to their country-
residence after the unfortunate destruction of
Felicia's hopes in Stratton Street ?"

" Yes— they went home to their country-resi-
dence ; and there it was that Miss Gower's condi-
tion was discovered. Ah ! Miss Percy ! it was a
terrible scene which took place between the poor
young lady and her father. But I will not dwell
upon it. Mr. Gower brought his daughter up to
London for a twofold purpose,— in the first place
that her shame might be concealed, and in the
second place that he himself might devise a means
of wreaking a bitter vengeance upon her seducer.
For some time Mr. Gower endeavoured to dis-
cover where Lord Frederick liavensclifFe was re-
siding—but inefl'ectually. Then accident threw
Lim in your way ; and from your lips he elicited
that his lordship dwelt in seclusion in the neigh-
bourhood of Dover. Mr. Gower already knew
that the Carshalton family had refused to be re-
conciled to Lord Frederick ; and thus he was at
no loss how to prepare a letter which should have
the effect of bringing him up to London. With
regard to the mode in which his lordship was be-

guiled to the house in Penton Street, I was just
now giving you explanations. My husband met
his lordship at King's Cross, and induced him to
enter a cab, to be conveyed to the house of the un-
known friend who had written the letter. It does
not appear that his lordship had the faintest sus-
picion of any sinister intent, until entering the
house he found himself a prisoner in the hands of
those men whose services Mr. Gower had procured
for the effectual accomplishment of the business.
And now you kno^v the rest,"

" And do you think," I asked, " that the day
may never come when your master will repent of
that vengeance so fiendish which he has inflicted ?
All barbarous punishments are revolting to the
mind : but to torture the body— to mar the beauty
of the human countenance— Oh, this to me ap.
pears a terrible thing to do, no matter how great
the provocation !"

The woman was evidently impressed with my
words : a shade came over her countenance, and
she sighed audibly. I passed on my way, think-
to myself that of all the accomplices in the tre-
mendous deed she at least was one who looked not
with completest satisfaction upon its savage bar-
barism.

On the following morning I received a letter
from Beda. She wrote from Petersfield, in Hamp-
shire, informing me that she had succeeded in
tracing Dame Betty thither, or rather into the
neighbourhood of that town, where the old gipsy
was now residing. I therefore made up my mind
to depart immediately and join Beda at Peters-
field. Mary Glentworth was already acquainted
with the projects which I had in hand ; and I
asked her if she would like to accoojpany me to
Petersfield? She replied that if I particularly
wished her to go with me she would of course
yield to my desire : but I saw that she had really
a disinclination to be my companion in the jour-
ney. 1 did not therefore choose to press her :
neither did I by word or look convey the intima-
tion that I regarded her conduct as somewhat un.
kind. Yet such was actually the sentiment which
I did entertain upon the point j for I thought that
Mary might at least accompany me to Petersfield,
where she could remain at the hotel while I was
executing my plan in respect to the old gipsy.

I therefore set off alone ; and in the afternoon
I reached Petersfield. I proceeded to the hotel
from which Beda had dated the letter ; and there
I found the faithful girl anxiously awaiting my
presence. She speedily gave me those explana-
tions which were too long to be committed to a
hastily written letter.

" First of all, as you know, my dear Miss," she
said, " I went to Birmingham. Thence 1 took a
vehicle at dusk, and proceeded into the vicinity of
the old dame's cottage on the Embledon road.
Leaving the vehicle at a short distance, I alighted
and approached the cottage. No light was burn-
ing there : tho plaee seemed entirely shut, up; and
a labouring man who lived in the neighbourhood,
told me that Dame Betty had been absent for
some weeks. He however knew not whither she
was gone, I returned into Birmingham, delibe-
rating with myself what course I should pursue :
but I could not resolve upon any settled plan. On
the following morning— as I was walking through
the streets of Birmingham, in that kind of mood

ELLEK PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

383

in which a person when at a loss trusts to tho
chapter of accidents to turn up something in
favour of a particular design to be carried out — I
saw the young woman who succeeded me in at-
tending upon Dame Betty when I entered into
your service. This young woman belongs to the
dame's tribe, and is much attached to Zirah. I
learnt that she had ceased to attend upon Dame
Betty, whose dreadful epileptic fits had so horrified
her that she could not endure her position any
longer. Having put a few questions in order
to ascertain what the feeling of the girl might be
towards myself, I discovered that it was altogether
friendly, and that she had never been made ac-
quainted with Dame Betty's secrets ; so that she
knew not how I had been entrusted with the poi-
soned lozenges, nor how I had failed to become
the dame's accomplice in the horrible crime. But
on the other hand, she did know that I had aided
Ziirah in her escape from the lunatic asylum ; and
therefore she was full of confidence in me. I then
began to fabricate a talc to elicit the information
which I required ; for I found that the young
woman was totally ignorant of the dame's present
place of residence. I told her that Zarah was un-
easy relative to her grandmother, from whom she
had not heard for some time. The young woman at
once volunteered to procure the information for
me if possible. There were some gipsies in the
neighbourhood ; and they, she said, would in all
probability know something of the dame's move-
ments. I begged her to lose no time in making
the inquiries— but to conduct them cautiously
without explaining her motive or mentioning my
name in the business ; and I invented sufficient
excuses for enjoining this secrecy. In the course
of the day I saw the young woman again : but all
she could tell me was that Dame Betty had gone
into Hampshire on some business which she had
kept tolerably close to herself. It however ap-
peared that there was an old crone near Embledon
who might possibly be in Dame Betty's secrets. I
supplied the young woman with money, and in-
structed her to pursue her inquiries. On the fol-
lowing day we met agiiu ; and then I learnt that
Dame Betty had set off for Petersfield : but wl\ere
she was to be found either in the town or neigh-
bourhood could not b3 ascertained."

"And then you set off for Petersfield, my dear
Beda," I said, — " trusting to your own ingenuity
to follow up the clue successfully ?"

" Yes : and on arriving here, I lost no time in
prosecuting the enterprise. With my countenance
concealed by a thick veil, closely folded, I wan-
dered about until at length I perceived the dame
issuing forth from a small chandler's shop, with a
few packages in her basket. I followed her at a
distance : she loft the town by one of the main
rone's — but she speedily struck into a bye-lane,
■which she pursued for nearly a couple of miles,
until she reached a lonely cottage, which she en-
tered. I had followed her so cautiously that I am
convinced she never once noticed me. Being com-
pelled to keep at a certain distance, I could not
gee whether she let herself into the cottage by
means of any key that she had about her, or whe-
ther the door was opened by some other person.
Therefore, knowing how important it was to ascer-
tain whether she were living alone there— and if
not, who her companions might be — I remained

for some time in the neighbourhood to keep watch.
I had perhaps been nearly two hours thus con-
cealed, when the door of the cottage opened; and
a tall, stout gipsy-woman, of middle age, issued
forth to draw some water from a neighbouring
stream. I remained another hour; and I saw no
other person about the premises. I conclude that
there is no man there ■"

"From what reason do you make this dediic«
tion ?" t inquired.

" From the fact that as the bucket was largo
and heavy," replied Beda, "a man would have
gone to draw the water if there had been one on
the premises. Besides, knowing Dame Betty's
habits, I imagine that she is living alone with
that woman, who is attending upon her in her
fits. I saw no one of whom I could make any
inquiries relative toJthe occupants of that cottage;
an 1 I returned into Petersfield to write to you. I
should have gone back into tho neighbourhood
this morning to watch the cottage again : but I
was fearful of being seen there — and such a dis-
covery, you know, would mar all our projects."

" Are there no other habitations in the neigh>
bourhood ?" I asked.

" There is a half-ruined farm-house, with out-
buildings, at a little distance,"- replied Beda: "but
I ascertained that the place was untenanted. And
now, my dear Miss, I have done all that lay in
my power to further your views."

" You have acted as you always do, Beda," I re-
joined,— " with prudence, sagacity, and perseve-
rance. You are a good and faithful girl— and
your devotion to me merits my warmest grati-
tude. But we must proceed cautiously : for after
all, my dear Beda, it is not quite certain that there
is no male occupant of the cottage; and this is a
point most essential for ua to ascertain. We will
deliberate this evening; and to-morrow morning
we will go together into the neighbourhood of the
cottage. We will institute a careful watch; and
the probability is that to-morrow evening we may
be enabled to execute our design."

Beda now left me, for the purpose of unpacking
my box and arranging my toilet necessaries in the
chamber which was provided for me at the hotel.
When thus left alone in the sitting-room, I ap-
proached the window in a listless mood, and looked
through the panes into the street. In a few mi-
nutes I beheld a very handsome equipage pass
along. It was now the end of the month of March
— the season was that of an early Spring— and the
weather was delightfully mild. The carriage to
which I have just alluded, was an open one, drawn
by two beautiful grey horses, which in every re-
spect were a perfect match. Tlie liveries of the
domestics were rich and elegant; and a glimpse
which I caught of a coronet upon the panel showed
me that the equipage belonged to some titled in-
dividual. There were two persons seated in the
carriage. One was an old man, whose age struck
me, so far as I could judge by a passing glance, to
be certainly not less than sixty-five — and me-
thought that he might even be older. There was
something distinguished in his bearing, despite
the decrepitude associated with such an nge ; and
he looked with mingled pride and fondness upon a
beautiful woman who was seated by his side. I
naturally conceived that this lady must be the old
man's daughter ; for her years did not exceed two

or three and twenty. She seemed to be tall and
well formed. Her profile, of which I obtained a
complete view, was faultlessly regular : her hair
was of a dark brown, somewhat wavy, shining
with a rich gloss, and falling in ringlets beneath
the exquisite bonnet, so as to enframe as it were
the charming countenance. I at once felt inte-
rested in that lady— not so much on account of
her beauty, as because her looks denoted a kind
heart and generous disposition. It was evident
that whoever these personages were, they were
well known in Petersfield; for the five or six indi-
viduals whom the carriage passed in the street
while it was yet within my view, saluted them
with the profoundest respect.

Almost immediately after this equipage had
rolled by, the waiter entered the room to lay the
cloth for my dinner. Seeing that I was standing
at the window, he said, "Perhaps you noticed,
ma'am, the handsome carriage which has just
passed ?"

I answered in the affirmative, — adding that I
presumed it belonged to some nobleman ?

"Lord Eelvedon," replied the waiter; " and
that was his lordship himself who was seated in
the carriage."

" And the young lady," I said, " is doubtless hia
daughter?"

" Xo, ma'am," rejoined the waiter : " that was
Lady Kelvedon, his lordship's second wife, whom
he married about a twelvemonth back."

" Indeed I" I exclaimed, all the interest which
I had previously experienced in the young lady,
suddenly turning into a sentiment of commisera-
tion at the idea of one so comparatively youthful
being linked to so aged a husband.

" Tes, ma'am," continued the waiter, who, as
waiters generally are, was disposed to be commu-
nicative ; " that is his lordship's second wife. He
has a beautiful estate in this neighbourhood — you
must have passed it, ma'am— about six miles dis-
tant-: "

" A very large mansion, with a modern front,
standing on an eminence in the midst of a spa-
cious park ?" I inquired.

" Tbe same, ma'am : that is Kelvedon Hall.
The old lord had for many years been a widower
—no one ever thought he would marry again —
particularly as he seemed very much attached to
his nephew, ilr. Collingwood j and therefore it
was to the surprise of everybody that we one day
heard his lordship had proposed to iliss "Wyvill,
one of the numerous daughters of a country gen-
tleman who is not supposed to be very well off.
The marriage took place; and I believe it is a
happy one. Her ladyship is very kind-hearted
and very charitable : everybody speaks well of her
— the poor in Petersfield and all the neighbourhood
for miles round have reason to bless her."

" And is there any heir from this marriage ?" I
inquired.

" No, ma'am," responded the waiter. " It would
be a bad thing for Mr. Collingwood if there were.
He had long considered himself the heir to the
title and estates ; and it would therefore be a ter-
rible disappointment. At the same time he is on
perfectly friendly terms with his uncle, and pays
the utmost respect to her ladyship."

" Does he reside at Kelvedon Hall ?" I in-
quired.

"Oh, no, ma'am," answered the waiter: ''he
habitually lives ia London. But he has always
been accustomed to pass three or four months
every year at the Hall when his lordship is there
during the parliamentary recess ; and it appears
as if this custom is not to be discontinued on ac-
count of his uncle's marriage : for Mr. Colling'
wood was at the Hall for a couple of months last
autumn, and be is now there again on a visit of a
few weeks. His lordship, it is understood, means
to live at the Hall altogether for the future — and
retiring from active life, pass the remainder of his
years in the enjoyment of domestic happiness."

The waiter now left the room to fetch up the
dinner; and I was again looking through the
window, when I perceived the handsome equipage
return along the street, as if some call having been
made or some shopping accomplished, the noble
party were now proceeding homeward. Lady Kel-
vedon was conversing gaily with her husband : she
was laughing — and I caught a glimpse of her
beautiful teeth. Scarcely was the equipage out of
sight, when the waiter re-appeared, bearing a tu-
reen of soup; and I sat down to dinner. After
the repast, I had Beda in the room to discuss our
plans for the morrow ; and I retired to rest at an
early hour, so that I might rise betimes to prose-
cute the enterprise which I had in hand.

Shortly after nine o'clock on the following
morning, I set out with Beda in the direction of
the cottage inhabited by Dame Betty. We pur-
sued the main road for a little while, and thence
we turned into the lane of which Beda had
spoken. We kept a careful look-out so as not to
stand the chance of encountering tbe dame her-
self in the open country and in the broad day-
light, at a time or place when it would be inex-
pedient to have recourse to those measures of
intimidation and coercion which we had resolved
to adopt at a proper season, but which might now
be interrupted by the sudden appearance of any
wayfarer. A little circuit which we made, brought
us into the vicinage of tbe ruined farm-house
concerning which Beda had spoken, and which
she had ascertained to be uninhabited. The in-
terval between this dilapidated place and the cot-
tage consisted only of open fields, without any
impediment to bar the view ; and I had already
determined, from the description given me of the
locality by Beda, to watch from amidst those
ruins.

" We will pass some hours here, if necessary,"
I said : " we can hence discern all that goes on ia
the neighbourhood of the cottage — we can see
everybody who passes in or out— and thus we
shall be enabled to assure ourselves whether there
be any male members of the gipsy tribe who are
either living at that cottage or who are in com-
munication with the dame."

Tae ruins consisted of the remnant cf a large
farm-house, with several out-buildings, which
latter were in a better state of repair than the
former. At first I thought that a fire must have
ravaged the principal edifice : but distinguishing
no signs thereof — no blackening of the crumbling
walls, nor evidences of burnt timber — I came to
the conclusion that a part of the house had fallen
in, either through its antiquity or for the want of
timely reparation. We wandered amidst the ruins:
but we could find no convenient place where we

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEE8S,

38-5

niigUt install ourselves so as to keep watch upon
the cottage at a little di-jtance. Bedi suggested
the inspection of an outhouse of somewhat con-
siderable dimensions, and which had a sort of
round tower built of red brick, with a pointed
roof. We accordingly repaired to the entrance of
this place ; and we found that the door, which
was originally massive in its construction, had
rotted away from its hinges. On entering the
building — the paved floor of which was broken in
several places — we observed furnaces at the ex-
tremity of a room of tolerably considerable ex-
tent. There was an open trapdoor in the ceiling ;
and a piece of rotting rope still hung through
this aperture to a pulley which might be seen
suspended to the ceiling of the room overhead. A
ricketty wooden staircase led up to this room, on
one side of which there were large partitioned
p laces exactly above the furnaces below.

" This has doubtless been an oast, or place for
Ko. iO.— Ellen Pekct.

drying' hopa," I 'said to Beda, when we had in
spected the interior of the building with some de-
gree of interest. " There are the open ovens
where the hops are dried by the heat from the
furnaces below. That trapdoor, with the pulley
and rope, served for the lowering of the sacks— or
pocl'ets, as I believe they are called. But many
a long day must have elapsed since the oast was
last used !"

"While pursuing our researches, we entered a
somewhat spacious room on the upper floor ; and
there we found an old bedstead, a table, and two
or three common rush-bottomed chairs. There
were two windows — and these were barred : but
one of them commanded a perfect view of the
little cottage which we were desirous to watch.
At that window we accordingly resolved to station
ourselves — but to look forth in so guarded a man-
ner as to avoid being observed in our turn.

"I wonder what purpose this room could have

386

EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OF AN ACTEEBB.

seryed ?" said Beda. " It is the only one where
we have seen the least remnant of furniture — and
the windows are barred."

"You might have noticed," I replied, "that all
the windows of the oast are thus protected, doubt-
less for the purpose of preventing the hops, when
there were any here, from being illegitimately dis-
posed of. It may likewise be that some person
was left in charge of the premises after the fall of
the main building had led to its evacuation by
its principal tenants; and this room may have
served as the lodging of the individual thus left
to take care of the property until its final re-
moval. It is strange that such a spacious esta-
blishment, possessing so many conveniences as it
evidently did, should have been euflfered to fall
into 80 ruinous a condition. But Ah !" I added, as
a thought struck me ; " methinks I recognise in all
this the baleful influence of a Chancery Suit !"

"A Chancery Suit, Miss?" said Beda inquir-
ingly-

" Yes— a lawsuit," I continued, " the object of
which was to decide to whom of the litigants the
property belonged. It may have lasted for years
— it may still be pending ; and thus in the interval
it is worth no one's while to keep the farm build-
ings in repair. There are many edifices in this
country in a similar condition. — But we must be
careful, Beda, that while we are talking we do
not fail to keep watch upon the cottage yonder."

" I have not as yet taken my eyes off it once,"
replied the faithful girl. " If you wish to walk
about, Miss, you may leave me here "

" Hush, Beda !" I suddenly ejaculated, but in a
subdued tone. " Do you not hear "

" Yes — the sounds of a horse's hoofs in the yard
at the back," rejoined Beda in a whisper. " What
if we were found here, intruding — — "

" We should say that we were led by curiosity to
inspect the ruins," I rejoined : " we should apolo-
gize if we bad trespassed — and it would be suffi-
cient. But let us poep and see who it is that
approaches."

I have already said that there were two win-
dows to the room which we had thus entered, —
one window looking across the fields towards the
cottage at a little distance— the other window
looking upon the back part of the premises.
There was a court-yard communicating with a
road which led through the farm, and on the op-
posite side of which was a space which had evi-
dently once been the straw-yard ; for there was a
pond in the corner, and it was bounded on three
sides by the farm-buildings. When Beda and I
peeped from the back window, we beheld a gen-
tleman on horseback advancing up thnt road which
divided the two yards. He was about thirty years
of age — of moderate stature — slender and well-
made — of very genteel appearance — but by no
means good-looking so far as the features were
concerned. He had light hair and bushy red whis-
kers ; and his countenance seemed pale. He was
handsomely dressed ; and so far as his social position
could be estimated, 1 thought that he was decidedly
a gentleman. He was riding &lowiy, looking about
him right and loft—but more as if he expected
to behold some individual whom he had come to
meet, than ao if ho were taking u survey of the
dilapidated premises. Alighting irom his burst', he
fastened the reins to a gate : then he again looked

about him ; and lighting a cigar, he strolled to and '
fro in the road, near the spot where he had left his
horse.

" He is evidently waiting for some one, Beda,"
I said ; " and I know not which course to adopt —
whether to remain here, or whether to issue forth
and apologize, if need be, for our intrusion."

" The door of the building opens into the yard,"
replied Beda ; " and therefore we cannot possibly
leave the premises without being observed by that
gentleman."

" At all events," I said, " let us retreat from
this window where he may see us; and we will
deliberate how to act."

We accordingly crossed the room towards the
front window : but scarcely had we reached it,
when we beheld a female figure approaching
through the fields. She came from the direction of
the cottage : she was an old woman, as we could
discern by her figure and her stoop : she wore a
cloak of dark colour— and she had a high stick,
which looked like a crutch.

" It is Dame Betty !" hastily whispered Beda,
at the very moment that I myself was about to
make the same announcement. " She is coming
as fast as she can walk," continued my youthful
dependant : " she is advancing in this direction !
Perhaps it is she whom the gentleman expects to
meet?"

"Yes — nothing can be more probable," I re-
sponded ; " and if so, there is Bome mischief
brewing. A gentleman meeting an old gipsy
woman in this stealthy manner, and in such a
place— it all tells its own tale 1"

" And now, dear Miss, what shall we do P" in-
quired Beda.

" Remain you here for a moment and watch the
old woman," I answered : " but take care that sho
does not catch a glimpse of your countenance."

Having thus spoken, I glided towards the back
window to see where the gentleman now was;
and I beheld him sauntering with his cigar in his
mouth, across the court-yard towards the door of
the oast. In a few moments he was lost to my
view ; for he had entered the building. I was un-
decided how to act. That mischief was in embyro
wherever Dame Betty was concerned, I felt con-
vinced; and I longed to ascertain what it might
be— not merely with a view of frustrating it if
possible, but to acquire fresh means of intimidat-
ing that vile old woman. I thought therefore of
reniaiaing concealed in the oast, and risking the
chances of discovery by the dame and by the
gentleman whom I felt certain she was coming to
meet. For, I said to myself, that if even the pre-
sence of Beda and me should be detected, that
gentleman would not dare attempt to do us a mis-
chief ; while, on the other hano, if we were now to
issue forth we must encounter him— he would be
enabled to describe our persons to Dame Betty— ^
she would recojjnise the portraiture, and thus learn
that we were in tho neighbourhood,— a result
which I was most anxious to avoid until the
proper time should come for carrying out our en-
terprise. Therefore, all things considered, I re-
solved, after a few moments of rapid reflection, to
remain concealed with Beda so long as circum-
stances might allow our presence to pass unknown
or unsuspccfcd.

Making a hasty sign for Beda to remain near

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF AK ACTEE8S.

3S7

the front window so as to keep an eye upon Dame
Betty's movements, I tripped as lightly as possible
out of that large »-oom, and entered the one where
the heating-places for the hops were arranged
over the furnaces below. I stole towards the open
trapdoor for the purpose of listening in what part
of the lower range of rooms the gentleman might
DOW be. Just beneath that trapdoor there was a
sort of raised platform of woodwork, about three
feet square, and a couple of feet in height, — evi-
dently intended as a resting-placo for the sacks or
pockets of hops when lowered, so that they might
thence be all the more conveniently laid on the
truck or barrow by which they were conveyed out
to the waggon. On this little platform the gen-
tleman was seated. It was fortunate that at the
very moment I was on the point of peeping over
the edge of the aperture, my nose was assailed
with the odour of the cigar and a wreath of the
smoke was curling upward : otherwise perhaps I
should have looked too far over at first, and should
have been perceived. Immediately on catching a
glimpse of his light hair, which was almost pale
and curly as tow — for he had taken off his hat — I
drew back. Then I remained motionless ; and
standing where I was, I was enabled through the
open doorway to see Beda at the front window in
the next room.

Three or four minutes passed : the gentleman
still continued to occupy his place in the room
below, and still continued to smoke his cigar. At
length Beda made me a sign to the effect that
Dame Betty was entering the premises; and I in
my turn now signalled the faithful girl to join me
where I stood. She came gliding along, with her
beautiful delicately shaped feet, as lightly as if she
were an aerial spirit ; and in a moment she was by
my side. I placed my finger upon my lip, to in-
timate that we must observe the strictest silence :
I then pointed downward in the direction of the
aperture, to make her comprehend that the gen-
tleman was there ; and her large dark expressive
eyes gave me to understand that she fathomed my
purpose in listening to whatsoever might take
place between this gentleman and Dame Betty.

"We waited for two or three minutes in breath-
less silence, both of us standing as motionless as
statues ; while the vapour of the cigar continued
to wreathe upward through the opening in the
floor. The gentleman did not seem to be in any
way impatient; for he occasionally hummed an
opera air while enjoying his cigar. At length the
words, "Well, old dame, so you have come at
last ?" reached our ears.

It was the gentleman who spoke ; and his voice
had an agreeable melodious intonation.

" I am but a few minutes behind the time," re-
sponded Dame Betty; and we heard her heavy
shoes stamping as well as her crutch tapping upon
the paved floor below. " I am not so young as I
once was, and therefore not quite so active: but I
have not taxed your patience overmuch."

" Well, have you brought the things ?" inquired
the gentleman.

"Yes," answered Dame Betty. "And have
you brought the money ?''

" What a precious polite question to put !"
ejaculated the gentleman half angrily : and then
bursting out into a laugh, he said, " But you are
evidently a sharp practitioner, dame."

" I like to be paid for what I do," rejoined the
old woman : " and you will excuse me for sayiny
that as I know you to be head over ears in debt,
and not particularly burdened with money at pre-
sent "

" You thought there was some chance of my
endeavouring to bilk you ?" cried the gentleman,
with another gay laugh. " But who the deuco told
you that I was so embarrassed in my circum-
stances?— though heaven knows it is true enough."

"These things get wind," answered the dame.
" Besides, don't you know it is my business to
learn everybody's affairs as much as possible ?
However, you say you have brought the money
— and that is sufficient."

" Here it is — all in good yellow gold, as you
stipulated that it should be. No bank notes that
one of your class might find a difficulty in chang-
ing ! Count the coin : you will find fifty good
ringing sovereigns in that bag."

" I will take your word for it," replied the
dame, after a brief pause, during which the chink-
ing of the precious metal had reached the ears of
Beda and myself as we stood motionless listeners
to this colloquy. " Here are the little articles,"
continued the dame : and then wo heard a sound
as of things rattling in a tin box — so that Beda
and I exchanged looks of shuddering horror, for
we comprehended full well what those little arti-
cles might be.

" Ah," said the gentleman, " they are just as
you described them — little brown lozenges, looking
like coffee-berries:"— and this observation again
mado me and Beda exchange shuddering glances.

" Well," said the dame, chuckling, " there is
an art in compounding those precious lozenges, I
can tell you ! Three whole weeks has it taken
me "

" But I hope you do not tell your secret to the
woman who lives with you ?" interjected the gen-
tleman hastily, and evidently with some degree of
anxiety.

" Heaven forbid !" cried the dame. " I so
manage matters that she never knows what I am
doing when at work with my compounds. Rest
assured that I am cautious enough for my own
sake as well as for your's and any other person,
gentleman or lady, who may honour mo with
their patronage."

" 'Tis well," replied the light-haired individual
who was her patron in the present instance ; " for
if these tremendous secrets once got abroad, there
would very soon be an end alike of yourself,
your drugs, and your patrons. But now have the
goodness to repeat in the shape of instructions the
assurances which on a former occasion you gave
me in respect to these precious lozenges of
your's."

" Listen attentively," replied the old dame.
" Y'ou already know that these lozenges contain a
slow poison, inevitable in its effects "

" But producing no outward symptom," ex-
claimed the gentleman, " that can lead a medical
man to suspect that such a poison has been ad-
ministered ?"

" I were the veriest fool in my art," replied
Dame Betty, " if I could not in this respect out-
wit all the doctors in the world."

" Well, true !" said the gentleman, flippantly ;
"you have grown old and grey in your iniquities

388

ELLEN PEECX; OE, IHK MEMOIRS OP AN ACXEK8B.

—and from jour experience you doubtless ought to
be proficient."

"And if jou did not know that I am," rejoined
the dame, somewhat testily, " you would not be
purchasing my lozenges now. These lozenges,"
she continued, " will dissolve the very moment
they are dropped into coffee, or soup, or into any
made dish where there is a rich gravy "

" Without imparting the slightest taste to the
food itself ?" said the gentleman inquiringly.

" Exactly so," rejoined Dame Betty. '■' There
ore ninety lozenges in this little box. That is a
supply for three months, reckoning one a day. If
you want to kill your victim in two months, ad-
minister one a day for the first month and two a
day for the second month. But by all means
be cautious in commencing slowly, so that the
wasting and pining away may be at first scarcely
perceptible, and all along gradual. If by some
accident you miss a day, administer two on the
following— or else the constitution will recover
materially from the first effects. You know that
it is the continuous dropping of the water which
hollows the rock : so it is with these lozenges, the
regular and continuous administration of which
eats into the vitals."

" And you are certain," asked the gentleman-
heaven knows how abhorrent it is to me to use
the word gentleman in reference to such a mis-
creant, but at this stage of my narrative I cannot
call him by his name, and therefore must use that
term for distinction's sake, — " you are sure," he
said, " that when the evidences of pining and
fading away first develop themselves— when the in-
tended victim begins to feel that he or she is sink-
ing slowly out of existence, just as a tide that is
ebbing sinks away from its shore, — you are sure
that the suspicion of poison will not arise in the
mind of the medical attendant ?"

" If the suspicion arise," answered the dame,
" I will defy the medical attendant to prove it by
any test, or to counteract the operation of the
poison so long as it is administered. The antidote
is known only unto myself. If you will find the
means of continuously administering the poison, I
will answer for the results;— and even if after
death there be an examination of the corpse by all
the cleverest surgeons and chemists in England,
no proof of poison shall be discovered. Whether,
therefore, you can go on admiuisteriDg the poison,
is your affair, not mine : I only undertake to
supply you with it. And now, to proceed a step
farther, I must give you the assurance that I do
not for a moment anticipate the presence of the
poison will be suspected by any medical attendant.
The patient will at first become slightly indis-
posed— then gradually more languid — with an in-
creasing loss of appetite, an indisposition for ex-
ercise, and a gradient falling away, so that attenu-
ation will merge into emaciation. The doctor
will at first think lightly of it, and will administer
simple medicines : then, as the malady increases,
he will talk of nervous affections, the liver, the
heart, and heaven knows what; but rest assured
that for his own sake he will not confess absolute
ignorance of the disease itself. In the end he will
shake his head, look sorrowfully wise, and talk of
atrophy. Now, sir, have I said enough ? — or do
you require any more instructions, assurances, or
predictions."

" I am satisfied," answered the villanous patron
of this infamous woman.

"Then farewell, sir," she rejoined; "and may
you succeed in all your aims."

" Good bye," he responded : and then Beda and
myself heard the treading of the heavy shoes and
the tapping of the crutch gradually retreat from
the room below, until those sounds were lost in
the court-yard.

Shortly afterwards the gentleman himself took
his departure from the oast ; and remounting his
horse, he rode away from the vicinage of the
ruined farm-buildings.

CHAPTEE LXVI.

THB COTTAGE.

The feelings with which Beda and myself had
listened to the discourse of Dame Betty and the
fair-haired stranger, may be more easily conceived
than described. Mischief was at its dreadful work
again, — that mischief which wrought itself out by
means of a slow insidious poison ! With all the
deliberate coolness of a toxicoological lecturer ex-
patiating upon poisoDS, had the infamous old
woman given her description to that gentleman
who had evidently become her patron ; and it was
no wonder that Beda and I exchanged shuddering
glances when we thought that in a short time the
slow venom might be at work, leading towards a
fatal result, unless we should be enabled to frus-
trate the hideous treachery !

It was not however until the gentleman had re-
mounted his horse and taken his departure, that
silence was broken by either Beda or myself ; and
then I was the first to speak.

" It was providence that placed us here," I said,
" in order that we should obtain a clue to the new
crime that is to be perpetrated ; and it will be for
us to exert ourselves to prevent its consummation.
We have now something more than we at first
anticipated to extort from the lips of that infa>
mous old woman I"

"Oh, if Zarah knew that her grandmother is
thus pursuing the path of crime," exclaimed
Beda, " she would not seek to protect her ! No
—it is impossible ! I am sure that Zarah is not
of such a wickedness as this !"

" And were there ten thousand Zarahs, Beda,"
I emphatically cried, " they should not prevent
me from dealing with this infamous hag as she
ought to be dealt with ! Let us first obtain from |
her the intelligence which is so important in more
ways than one; and then justice must take its
course. It would be a sin to leave the wretch any
longer at large in the world to continue her
hideous traffic. But how can we wonder that
there should be such traffickers in the means of
dealing death itself, when we find that there are
such patrons as that stranger who has just pur-
chased the hag's fatal wares at ten times their
weight in gold ?"

Beda and I now again returned to the front
window, whence for the nest two or three hours
we kept our eyes fixed upon the cottage at a little
distance : but we beheld no one moving about the
neighbourhood of the premiBea with the exception

ELLEN PEECT; OK, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTEES3.

389

of the gipsy-woman who was ia attendance upon
Dame Betty. At length, tolerably well satisfied
that these two females were alone in that cottage
together, I said to Beda, " Wo shall be two against
two: but then one is a dccrepid old woman and
can be speedily overpowered. It is her attendant
whom we have chiefly to dread."

" I fear not as to the result," answered Beda,
her large dark eyes flashing fire. " I feel as if I
could fly at tbem both like a tigress ! But if, my
dear Miss, we adopt the plan which you last night
suggested, and keep watch in the neighbourhood
of the cottage after dusk "

" Yes, Beda," I said ; " that is the course which
we must pursue. Our plans, as last night
shadowed out, need be in no respect changed."

We now issued from amidst the ruins of the
farm-buildings ; and we retraced our way into
Petersfield. During the walk we continued to
discourse upon everything we had overheard at
the oast, as well as upon the projects which wo
had to carry out. I saw that Beda was most re-
solute in respect to the part which she herself
should have to play; and I was equally deter-
mined to prosecute the enterprise with all requi-
site daring and vigour.

Having partaken of dinner, I ascended at about
sis o'clock to my chamber; and there I deposited
in my trunk my watch, my jewellery, and the
greater portion of the money which I had about
me ; so that in case of any accident I should not
have upon my person a very large booty for the
satisfaction of a plunderer. Beda and I now set out
upon an enterprise which may seem to the reader
to be somewhat of a chivalrously romantic de-
scription : but it was nevertheless the only means
that I could devise of bringing to a crisis those
matters on which I sought such important infor.
motion. The evening was very dark : but in this
respect it all the better suited our purpose. We
proceeded along the road — we turned into the bye-
lane — we soon drew near the dilapidated farm-
buildings ; and then, branching ofl' to the left, we
bent our way towards the cottage. A light was
burning in a room on the ground-floor, as we
could distinguish by the rays which glimmered
through a hole in a rude shutter closing on the
outside : but that shutter prevented us from ob-
taining a glimpse into the room itself. There was
a little shed in which firewood was kept, a few
yards distant from the cottage ; and in that shed
we placed ourselves in a kind of ambush.

" If no one comes forth, Miss, within a short
time," whispered Beda, " had we not better knock
at the door, and at once seize upon the person who
opens it?"

" That, you know," I replied, " is to be our last
resource. Let us have a little patience. It is
almost certain that the woman will presently come
out for something — either water from the stream,
or wood from this shed "

But here I stopped suddenly short ; for the door
of the cottage was at the instant opening. A
light was burning inside the passage; and it threw
forth into strong relief the tall form of the woman
whom Beda had described as the attendant upon
Dame Betty. She left the door open ; and from
our hiding-place wo could perceive that she had
placed the candlestick upon the stairs. The other
light was still burning in the ground-floor roomj—

which we therefore concluded to be occupied by
Dame Betty. The interior of the cottage, so far
as we could thus judge of it, seemed to bo some-
what better appointed than its exterior led us to
suppose. The passage was lofty, and it was &
good staircase : so that I fancied the cottage must
have once been tenanted by some superior depen-
dant belonging to the farm itself— such, for in-
stance, as a bailiiF.

Tho woman came out of the habitation; and
she approached the shed where Beda and I were
lying in ambush. She was evidently coming for
firewood. We both remained motionless as
statues until the very instant that she was at the
entrance of the shed ; and then we seized upon
her. It was with an indescribable energy— with a
power that seemed to borrow its force from a con-
centrated rage, although it was not really so— that
my faithful Beda literally flew at the woman. I
had grasped her with all ray strength, but in tho
twinkling of an eye she was prostrate at my feet
—and Beda was upon her. I could see nothing,
for the place was involved in pitchy darkness ; but
I could full well judge that Beda had clutched her
by the throat ; for the intrepid girl said in a low
but terribly resolute voice, " Dare to resist or to
seek to cry out, and I will throttle you ! There
are half-a-dozen of us altogether in tho busi-
ness !"

There was a moment's pause : and then tho
woman in gasping accents faltered out, " Pray do
not kill me ! Tell me who you are and what you
want— and I will do whatsoever you desire !"

" Beware then how you speak too loud," re-
turned Beda, " or how you move so much as a
muscle of your frame ! And now answer me — who
is in the cottage with Dame Betty ?"

" Ho one," replied the woman.

"But how soon is any one expected?" de-
manded Beda. "Do not attempt to deceive me— •
or rest assured it will be the worse for you in the
long run!"

" I am not deceiving you— I will not deceive
you !" rejoined the woman. " No one is expected.
Pray, for mercy's sake, take your fingers from my
throat," sho added, gasping with a great eflbrt.

" Do not injure her," I said, " if you think that
she has told you the truth : but let us proceed to
bind her fast — and she may rest assured that this
is the extreme of violence with which she will be
treated."

We bad brought a cord in anticipation of some
such scene as this ; and we both proceeded to bind
the woman hand and foot. Slie was evidently
almost overwhelmed with terror ; for she sobbed,
gasped, and faltered out entreaties that we would
not do her a mischief. And well might she be thus
under the influence of an almost crushing appre-
hension ; for the whol3 scene was taking place in
the darkness — she could form no earthly idea of
who we were — and the assurance which Beda had
thrown out to the eflect that we were half-a-dozen
in all, must have made her fancy that there were
other persons close at hand, but preserving a
solemn silence as if waiting until called upon to
act. We bound the woman ; and by dint of
groping about we quickly discovered how wo
might fasten the ends of the cords round one of
the upright posts which supported the she I, which
was merely a rude contrivance, the sides being

390

ElLEIf PERCY; OE, THE MEM0IE8 OP AH ACTEES8.

formed of the small wood used for making fag-
gots,

" Now," said Bada, wlien this task was accom-
plished and we knew that our prisoner was entirely
safe, " you will do well to remain quiet : for there
are others just outside to keep watch over

you "

"Pray don't do me a mischief!" interrupted
the woman, in on agony of entreaty ; " and no
sound shall escape my lips."

"It will ba better for you," answered Beda,
menacinely, "if you keep your promise."

The faithful girl and I now hastened towards
the cottage; and we entered the passage on tip-
toe. We listened at the door of the room in
which the light was burning — and all was still.
In a moment we threw open that door; and we
rushed in upon Dame Betty, whom we found
seated alone in that room. The hag started up
from a doze before the fire; and an expression of
mingled consternation and rage settled upon her
countenance, appearing to congeal upon that
wrinkled face like the frost upon a window-pane.

"Yile woman!" I exclaimed, grasping her
forcibly by the shoulder, while Beda wresting her
crutch from her hand, threw it to a distance upon
the floor, so that she might not assail us there-
with ; " the moment is arrived for you to confess
your iniquities, to most of which I already possess
a clue 1"

The dame stared upon us in vacant bewilder-
ment; and her powers of speech were evidently
paralysed.

" I am here," I said, " to wring from your lips
the avowal of your crimes; and your punishment
will be mitigated only in proportion as you frankly
confess the truth."

"Little traitress!" cried the hag, thus sud-
denly hurling her vindictive spite at Beda as a
toad according to the fable spits forth its venom.

"The calling of hard names will do you no
good, Dame Betty," responded Beda; "and
coming from such lips, they will assuredly do me
no injury. You are in our power — your com-
panion is bound hand and foot in the shed, and
cannot come to your assistance."

At this intelligence Dame Betty's countenance
fell; and she flung glances of terror upon both
of us.

""Woman!" I said, throwing into my voice as
much sternness as possible, "you are well stricken
in years— and you may perhaps have flattered
yourself that having so long practised your hor-
rible crimes with impunity, you would thus go on
until the end. But heaven has decreed that late
though it be, you are now to be stopped in your
career. I know how you sought to take my life :
but this faithful girl was incapable of lending her-
self to your iniquitous designs. Detestable poi-
soner ! vendor of deadly drugs ! even this very day
were you pursuing your abominable traffic : but
little did you think that while driving your bar-
gain with your scarcely less execrable patron, there
were listeners in the room above !"

" Ah !" murmured the hag : and she trembled
all over as if smitten with the palsy.

" Yes," I continued, hastening to follow up the
effect of the blow just dealt; "Beda and I were
present— and we heard all !"

" Oh, Miss Percy, spare a poor old woman !

spare me, I beseech you!" faltered forth the hag,
quivering and shaking more and more. " It will
do you no good to send me to the scaffold ! I
have not long to live ! — spare me, I entreat you !
I know that you are not malignant— and Beda
cannot wish to do me a mischief!"

" Will you confess everything?" I demanded;
" will you endeavour to make as much atonement
aa possible for the past? Eest assured that it

will better serve your interest to do this "

" Speak, Miss Percy— speak !" said the old hag:
" what do you want me to say ? If I have been
wicked, there are others who are more wicked
still ; and if there must be a crash, it will prove
an awful one — for there is more than one high
name which will have to be mentioned if ever the
worst happens to me !"

" And the time is now come," I said, with
mingled sternness and solemnity, " for the men-
tion of those names ! Answer me, woman ! for I
have several questions to put — and let there be no
delay ! In the first place, that gentleman whom
you met to-day — what is his name ? who is he ?"

Dame Betty looked at me with a ghastly ex-
pression for a few moments ; and then she cried
querulously and excitedly, "If I tell you, Miss
I Percy, you will send me to prison all the same !

j What advantage am I to gain "

i " In a few words I will show you your true
I position," was my quick response. " If you shut
yourself up in an obstinate silence, you will be
arrested and tried as a principal in many crimes
, —justice will investigate them — you will be found
! guilty and condemed to death. The attempt you
sought to make on mi/ life will alone be sulEciont
I to ensure your condemnation: for Beda will stand
' forward ns a witness against you. But if on the
; other hand you consent to confess everything, you
! may doubtless be admitted as evidence for the
! Crown against those who have been your accom-
plices, your instigators, and your patrons ; and I
pledge myself to put a seal upon my lips in refer-
ence to the attempt sought to be made against my
own life. In this latter ease you may reckon that
your life will be spared, and the rest of your
miserable existence will be left to its own natural
course. Now, woman, you understand your posi-
tion ; and you may begin by confessing the name
of that individual to whom you sold your poisoned
lozenges to-day."

The wretched woman's countenance expressed
all the conflicting feelings which this address on
my part was naturally calculated to inspire. There
was a ghastly horror and a, strong convulsive
shuddering as I put to her the more terrible alter-
native ; and then a gleam of hope appeared upon
her features — but yet of that dubious sickly kind
which denoted that it arose from the otherwise
utter desperation of the circumstances in which
she was placed. It was evident that her soul,
conscious of countless crimes — cold and implacable
like iron itself when entertaining no apprehension,
was now malleable and impressible when heated by
the burning fever of alarm. Indeed, it was plain
that she was about to confess everything, — when
suddenly the sounds of voices and of heavy foot-
steps just outside the front door reached our ears;
and at the very instant that the hag's looks un-
derwent a sudden change, becoming animated
with hope and malignant triumph, Beda and I

ELLEX PEECT ; OE, THE 1IEM0IE3 OF AIT ACTRESS.

391

exchanged rapid glances of disappointiaent, af-
fright, and dismaj. Two men, evidently of the
gip3y tribe, rushed into the room : Beda and rny-
Bslf were seized upon ; and Danie Bettj, stooping
to pick up her crutch, pointed with fiendish tri-
umph to us both, shrieking forth, " Seize them !
hold them !— the wretches ! It is my tura now to
threaten !"

Siiarcely had she thus spoken, when the woman
whom we had left bound in the shed, made her
appearance ; and rushing towards me, she thrust
her clenched fist info my face, crying, "Ah! you
dare bind me hand and foot, do you ? I have a
great mind to spoil your beauty for you, and
knock those white teeth of your's down your
throat — or tear out those large dark eyes!"

" Eeep off, tigress !" I exclaimed, as I was
struggling desperately in the grasp of the ruffian
who had hold upon me; while Seda was doing the
same in respect to the other individual.

But our resistance was useless : we were both
overpowered — and our hands were bound behind
our back.. As I glanced at Beda, I saw that
though she was thus rendered a captive, her spirit
was far from broken ; for her large luminous eyes
darted fierce lightnings around upon our enemies.

" Then there are no others after all !" ejaculated
the woman who served as Dame Betty's atten-
dant : " and it was all a falsehood about there
being half-a-dozen of them !"

" You see, my pretty dears," said Dame Betty,
thus addressing Beda and myself in a taunting
tone, "you have found your way into the den of
the lioness. But you must now bo taught a
lesson I"

" Well, it seems, dame," said one of the men,
" that it was rather fortunate me and Black Ned
should have come to see you this evening. I
couldn't think what the deuce it was when I heard
a Voice calling to us from the shed "

" Ah ! I wasn't to remain long a prisoner
there," exclaimed the tall woman, again clenching
ber fist and holding it near my face in a menacing
manner ; but she did not touch me — on the con-
trary, she actually seemed overawed by the looks
of scorn and defiance which I bent upon her.

"Don't be alarmed. Miss Percy," said Beda,
in a resolute tone and with an intrepid look :
" these wretches dare not murder us : for as the
people of the hotel know where wo have come
they will soon be seeking after us when they find
that wo do not return "

"If you can invent no better tale than this to
frighten us with, my little bantam," ejaculated
the old gipsy crone, with derisive accents and a
mocking laugh, "you had better hold your tongue.
I can see us far into things as anybody — I know
very well that you did not tell the people of the
inn where you were coming — for if you had
thought of taking anybody into your confidence,
you would not have come alone — but you would
have brought assistance— a constable perhaps, or
what not P So you see, my dear, you can't frighten
me."

" And you dare not take our lives, Dame
Betty !" exclaimed the intrepid girl : " for even
if it be all as you say — and even if you are
right in your conjecture that we came here
unknown to anybody — yet would the vuico of
our blood cry up from the ground against you.

and you woull go to the sjaffolJ ! All this you
know, Daaio Betty: and wicked though you are,
yet you are fi'ightenod-^— yes, even now you are
frightened ! and you dare not injure a hair of our
hei^ds !"

The old crone as well as the tall female dcpea-
dant were evidently struck for a few moments, if
not actually overawed, by the language which thus
flowed from Beda's lips; and Dame Bitty seemed
to be pondering what she should do.

" Well," exclaimed the individual who bore the
appellation of Black Ned, " what are we to do with
these young birds ? — because I for one am not
frightened by any of their silly threats."

" Nor me either," ejaculated the fellow's ruffian-
companion. "You know best. Dame Betty, to
what extent they can harm you, and therefore
what ought to be done with them ; because so far
as me and Black Ned are concerned, it is still a
mystery why they are here at all, or what they
wanted to do."

" We must keep them safe somewhere," said
Dame Betty ; " because there's a person I must
consult in this business. Where can we put
them ?"

" Why not in the overseer's room at the oast .3"
suggested Black Ned. " I was up there smoking
my pipe three or four days ago; and just for
curiosity's sake I looked at them iron bars ■"

" And they are secure ?" inquired the old crone
eagerly.

"Never trust me again," replied Black Ned,
" if I speak false when I say that the oast will
make as safe a little cage as possible for thoso two
pretty birds."

"Then away with them!" cried Dame Betty;
" and do you remain at the oast. Black Ned, to
make them keep quiet. But you must come back
to me, John," she added, turning to the other
ruffian ; " for I shall have to send you with a mes-
sage."

I saw that it was utterly useless to use either
entreaties or threats; and I could not proffer any
pledges of secrecy or forbearance for the future,
as a means of regaining liberty for myself and
Beda. Perceiving therefore that there was no
alternative but to submit to the captivity that was
in store for us, and trust to heaven for our de-
liverance, I said in a calm quiet tone, " You need
not use any violence— for we will accompany you
without the slightest offer of resistance."

" So much the better, my pretty bird," replied
Black Ned ; " you will save us a deal of trouble
in carrying you in our arms if you really mean to
walk quietly. But now just observe! Me and
my comrade Jack are not fellows to be trifled
with ; and if during our walk to the oast wo hap-
pen to meet anybody, and either of you two
should take it into your head to shriek out, we will
knock you down on the spot. Now, mind !"

Beda and I issued forth from the cottage, with
our hands still bound behind our backs,— Black
Ned having a grasp upon my arm, and his rufliaa
comrade holding Beda in a similar manner.
Through the darkness of the night we went ; and
not a single syllable was spoken until we reached
the ruined farm-buildings. Then Black Ned said
to his comrade, " Look sharp, .Jack, and strike a
light; so that wo may see our way— for it is as
black inside as at the end of a cavern."

392

EliLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOISS OF AN ACTEESS.

A lantern, which had been brought by the man
thus addressed, was quickly lighted ; and we were
conducted up to that room which has already been
more than once alluded to as having some little
furniture in it, with two barred windows— one
looking towards the cottage, and the other upon
the back part of the premises.

" Take the cord off the hands of your young
bird," said Black Ned to his companion, while he
himself began to unfasten the rope from my
wrists : " we shall want these bits of cordage to
make the door fast— for there's no such thing as
bolt or key."

Beda and I were freed so far as our arms were
concerned ; and Black Ned, bending upon us both
a fierce look, said, " Now, I should just advise you
to keep as quiet as possible. You heard what
Dame Betty bade me do j and I intend to do it.
I shall stay here in the oast all night; and if
there's any squealing or shrieking out of the win-
dows, I shall just see what a good stout cudgel
will do towards silencing you. Come along, Jask :
they won't take no harm by being left in the
dark."

" One word !" I exclaimed, as a hope inspired
me — but I must confess that it was a faint one,
for I knew how faithfully the members of the
gipsy tribe are wont to fulfil the mandates of any
one having authority over them, as Dame Betty
evidently had. " I will give you each fifty guineas
as the purchase of our liberation. I have not the
money here — but I will give you a cheque upon
my banker in London; and I will pledge myself
by the most solemn of oaths not to revoke it nor
to set any snare to entrap you."

"It won't do, Miss," answered Black Ned.
" The offer is tempting — but we don't know what
mischief you might do to Dame Betty if you was
set free: and perhaps the bribe would become
blood-money in our hands. And now good night."

The fellow retired from the room, followed by
his companion who carried the lantern ; so that
Beda and I were left in utter darkness, in cap-
tivity, and in the intense cold of that March
evening. We listened for a few moments in
breathless silence, as if both of us with one accord
were endeavouring to ascertain by what means
the door was to be fastened upon us. "VYe heard
Black Ned say, "Look about for a stout stick or
bit of wood. Jack — long enough to place against
the framework of this door : then we can tie the
cord to the latch, and I'll defy the girls to get it
open. Besides, I shall keep watch about the pre-
mises while you go and see what Dame Betty
wants you to do nex.t,"

" Here's a bit of wood that will just answer
the purpose," said the other gipsy-man, after a
brief silence : " and now make haste and fasten
up the door."

This work was soon accomplished ; and then we
heard the heavy tread of both the men retreating
from the door which was thus secured upon us.

" My poor Beda," I said, in a low whispering
voice as I caught my faithful dependant in my
arras, " into what perils have I brought you !"

" Do not think of me only, dearest Miss !" re-
plied Beda : "there is a happiness— or at least a
consolation for me in sharing the dangers which
have overtaken yourself."

" Oh, you are a good kind girl !" I ejaculated, j

though in a subdued tone : " but still I cannot
help blaming myself for everything that has hap-
pened ! I now see the rashness of the enterprise !
Yes, now that it is too late "

"And being too late, my dear Miss Percy," in-
terjected Beda, "it is useless to deplore it. Dame
Betty is going to send off one of these men with
a message somewhere ; she said that she had a
person to consult "

"That must be the gentleman whom we saw in
the morning," I responded. " She will tell him
that everything is known to us— and he is evi-
dently a man of the most unscrupulous character,
capable of any villany. Oh, my poor Beda ! I now
tremble for our lives ?"

"Be not cast down, my dear Miss," said the in-
trepid girl : " it is not the first time that you have
sustained dangers at the hands of Dame Betty ;
and heaven has hitherto protected you. That
same heaven will protect you still !"

"God grant that it may be so!" I solemnly
added : " but I declare to you, my faithful girl,
that I am now infinitely more concerned on your
account than on my own."

Beda said everything reassuring : she spoke
hopefully and cheerfully; and thus I had another
proof, not merely of the intrepidity of her charac-
ter, but likewise of her devotion tov/ards myself.
She implored me not to express any farther grief
on her special account — but to regard the calamity
as one which had inevitably overtaken both of us
without there being any fault to be more attached
to the one than to the other.

I have already said that the night was very
cold, for it was the last day of the month of
March ; the wind was blowing keenly, and seve-
ral panes in both windows were broken ; so that
there was a complete draught through the room,
Beda and I drew a couple of the crazy rotting
chairs into a corner, in order to escape from the
current of air; and huddling close together, wo
endeavoured to keep ourselves warm. We heard
Black Ned occasionally moving about in the adja-
cent premises ; and the strong odour of tobacco
was wafted into tho room where Beda and I were
captive. In low whispering tones we discussed the
possibility of escaping. We glided to tho win-
dows and felt the massive bars : but we were soon
convinced that Black Ned had only spoken too
truly when he declared that those iron defences
could be relied upon to keep us secure in our
cage. The door was strongly fastened; and wo
were at length compelled to admit to each other
that there was in reality no chance of escape by
any of those avenues. Then we returned to our
corner; and folded in each other's arms, we en-
deavoured to keep off the cold.

Not one wink did either of us sleep throughout
that night. I cannot tell how wearily, how
heavily, how coldly, and how miserably the hours
dragged themselves along. What would be
thought at the hotel of our absence, was among
the painful subjects for reflection : but this was
indeed trivial in comparison with the utter uncer-
tainty as to what fate might be in store for us.
Yet Beda never once lost her intrepidity nor
spoke despondingly ; and I felt that I admired
and loved the faithful girl more than ever, if pos-
sible, for the conduct which she displayed through-
out this wretched, memorable night.

The cold faiufc beams of movning at leugth
began to glimmer in at the windows j and now
Beda and mjself were suffering so intensely from
the chill that we could not keep our teeth from
chattering. As it grew somewhat lighter, we
locked through the windows : no one was to be
seen in the back part of the premises — but from
the front window Dame Betty's tall female depen-
dant was observed to be approaching at a rapid
pace. She had a basket on her arm, which was
only half-covered by her somewhat scanty cloak.

" She is bringing us provisions, I verily be-
lieve!" said Beda: but I saw by the girl's looks
what was passing in her mind.

" Yes," I observed, in a low tone : " we must

indeed be cautiou?, Beda; for we are dealing with

ruthless people — with fiends in human shape! —

and that vile hag Damo Betty is but too fcarluUy

No. 50. — Ellen Peect.

skilful in the dreadful art of poison-compound-
ing!'

The woman, with tho basket on her arm, en-
tered the oast; and soon afterwards we heard foot-
steps approaching our door. The fastening was
removed from the outside — Black Ned first of all
made his appearance — and then came the tall
gipsy-woman with the basket.

" Here," she said, in a rough brutal tone, and
flinging on us malignant looks, — " here is food for
you ; and it is more than you deserve after all you
have done. You may expect to see some one pre-
sently— and then you will know your fate."

" I must do the birds tho justice to say," ex-
claimed Black Ned, " that they have been very
quiet during tho night, and have not chirruped
out of the wii-.dow."

"Then do jou take care," returned the woman,

394

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AN ACTEESS.

" that they continue quiet : for now that it is day-
light, you know " — and she bent a significant look
upon the man, as much as to imply that in the
daytime there were greater ohancea of strangers
passing near the premises.

" Don't be afraid," said Black Ned, with a de-
termined look; "they know what will happen if
they dare attempt to screech out :" — and he me-
nacingly shook a huge bludgeon which he carried
in his hand. " Besides," he added, " there is
something I can do which will add to their com-
forts; for it will keep out the draught."

Thus speaking, he brought from the adjoining
room the trapdoor which was wont to be fitted
over the opening through which the sacks were
lowered down into the place below ; and this trap-
door exactly suited the size of the front window-
frame. There he accordingly fixed it, so that it
might serve as a shutter to prevent us from ob-
serving when any stranger might happen to be
passing along in the front part of the premises.

" There now I" he said, with a sly leer ; " you
are protected from the draught."

He and the woman then retired ; and the door
was again fastened upon us. Beda opened the
basket, in which we found a loaf of bread and a
bottle of milk. The milk was warm ; and though
both Beda and myself longed to partake of it, yet
we dared not, for we were afraid lest it might
contain poison !

" I brought the box of pink lozenges with me
to Petersfield," I said ; " for ever since they fell
into my hands at Birmingham, I have invariably
travelled with them. If we now had them here,
Beda, we might fearlessly drink that milk : for
we have positive proof that the pink lozenges are
an antidote to all the vile hag's poisoaa."

"Do you not think. Miss," inquired Beda,
" that we might in all safety eat the bread ?— for
I confess that I am very, very hungry."

" Ob, for heaven's sake do not, Beda, I conjure
you!" I exclaimed. " Better to remain in a half-
famishing condition, than to run so fearful a
risk !"

" Yes, yes— you are right, my dear Miss
Percy !" cried Beda ; " we will not ! Away with
the temptation !" — and through the bars of the
back window she thrust the contents of the
basket, the bottle smashing on the ground be-
low.

" B.allo !" cried Black Ned, stepping forth from
the oast and looking up at the window : " so you
are quarrelling with your food — are you ? Well,
I suppose it is not good enough for you ; and your
appetites are somewhat of the daintiest. Well, if
you stay here to dinner— as perhaps you will — I
must tell Dame Betty to provide you with some-
thing nice unless you would like a repast sent

down from your hotel ?"

With a chuckling laugh at what the ruffian
conceived to be a good joke, he lighted his pipe
and began to walk rapidly up and down the
court-yard, moving his arms about and striking
them crosswise to Murm himself.

" We are soon to expect some one, Beda," I
said ; " and then we shall know our fate ! It
was thus that the woman spoke. Who can that
tome one be if not the stranger whom we saw here
yesterday ?"

Scarcely had these words gone forth from my

lips, when the sounds of a horse's hoofs ad-
vancing at a rapid rate, reached our ears • and
looking through the back window, we beheld that
fair-haired gentleman approaching along the lane j
which divided the two yards belonging to the I
farm-premises. Black Ned hastened forward to
hold the gentleman's horse ; and a few observa-
tions were rapidly exchanged between them — but
what they were we could not overhear. Then the
gentleman entered the oast ; and we heard his
footsteps ascending the ladder-like staircase. The
fastenings of the door were undone; and the
gentleman made his appearance. I have already
said that he was about thirty years of age— of me-
dium height— genteel, but far from good-looking
— with very light hair, red bushy whiskers, and
pale countenance. His face was now absolutely
colourless, uotwithstaudiug the excitement of
riding : he seemed as if labouring uuder a bewil-
dering affright and consternation. His whole
manner was deeply agitated ; and his glances wan-
dered excitedly from my countenance to that of
Beda. As for ourselves, we both maintained a
calm intrepid demeanour, as we stood together in
the middle of the room where he thus appeared in
our presence.

CHAPTEE LXVII.

THE ATTACK.

It was evident that though the gentleman had
come intent upon the particular business which
seemed do vitally to concern him, ho knew not
how to open the topic : he was exceedingly em-
barrassed and confused— and indeed his counte-
nance displayed an agitation which I had not
expected to find on the part of a man who the day
before had appeared flippantly reckless and full of
a callous levity when dealing with the old hag for
the means of committing a stupendous crime. At
length settling his wandering regards upon me, he
said, " I know who you are. Miss Percy : you are
otherwise known as Miss Trafford, the celebrated
tragedian. I have seen you upon the stage — and
I have admired you."

" If, sir," I replied, coldly but resolutely, " you
have the power to grant freedom to myself and to
my faithful dependant, I desire that you at once
sufler us to pass hence."

"Respecting your liberty. Miss Percy," he re-
sponded, evidently gaining courage and self-pos-
session now that the ice was once broken and that
the discourse was commenced, " much if not every-
thing depends upon yourself. It seems that you
overheard something which took place between me
and the old gipsy-woman "

" It is true — I do not attempt to deny it," I
said; "and that which I did overhear was of a
very frightful character !"

"Without for a moment admitting the inter-
pretation which you yourself may choose to put
upon it," resumed the stranger, now speaking
with the utmost hardihood alike of mien and tone,
"I will take it for granted that the impression
left upon your mind was tho correct one. This
therefore is to serve as a premise for the conver-
sation that we must now have together :" — and

ELtEX PEECT; OH, THE MEM0IB3 OP AW ACTBE88.

395

as he spoke he leant his back against the door-
post, folding his arms with firm and resolute bear-
ing across his chest.

" Proceed, sir," I said : and it was with a strong
sense of loathing that I looked upon this man
whom I knew to be capable of the most enor-
mous turpitude.

" It will perhaps help us on the way towards a
complete understanding," he continued, "if you
will condescend to answer me a question. I have
heard much of jour character, Miss Percy — and
I know that nothing but the truth can come from
your lips "

" Put your question, sir," I said ; " and if it
be answered at all, rest assured that the response
will be given with sincerity and truthfulness."

"I would simply inquire, Miss Percy, if you
know who I am ?"

" No, sir : I know you not."

"And yet," he immediately proceeded, as if
musing audibly, " it really matters but little
whether or not you know who I am : for you
could speedily find out if it suited your purpose
—that is to say, supposing the issue of our present
diecourse should be an arrangement by which you
may obtain your liberty. But perhaps, Miss
Percy," he ejaculated, as an idea seemed to strike
him, "you will permit me to put another ques-
tion ; — and again I rely in confidence upon your
sincerity. Tell me, therefore, as if you were speak-
ing on your oath, what course you would adopt in
reference to myself — in reference, I mean, to any.
thing which you heard pass between me and the
old gipsy-woman, — what course you would adopt,
I inquire, if you were this moment restored to
liberty ?"

"Not for a single instant can I recognise your
right thus to question me," 1 responded. "Tou
are now adding other offences to those which you
may have already contemplated or perpetrated :
you stand here as an accomplice in the offence of
those who are detaining myself and my young
attendant prisoners."

The gentleman bit his lip for a moment with
evident vexation at the firmness with which I met
him : but rapidly regaining his self-possession, he
said in a determined manner, " Then, if I must
speak out harshly, plainly, and sternly, be it so ! —
and the sooner the better !"

He paused for a few moments, expecting per-
haps that I would give some reply ; but 1 made
none ; and he continued in the following man-
ner:—

" I bare already said it shall be taken for
granted that the interpretation which I know
you have put upon the scene of yesterday, is the
correct one. If so, it is evident I stand in your
presence as a man driven fo desperation : for you
have it in your power to ruin me ! It is therefore
tantamount to a death-struggle which must take
place between you two on one side and myself on
the other. In plain terms, to secure my own
safety I must get rid of you both. This I am
prepared to do, as well as resolved to do!"

"Wretched man!" I exclaimed, "dare you
stand thus in our presence and speak in cold blood
of committing a double murder? Oh! but we
will resist ! — rest assured that we will sell our lives
dearly !"

"Resistance would be vain," interrupted the

stranger, with a look of such fearless wickedness
that it reminded me of that look which in times
past I had so often observed upon the features of
Edwin St. Clair. " Behold !"— and he drew forth
a double-barrelled pistol.

I instinctively recoiled two or three paces at
the sight of the weapon ; and clutching Beda by
the arm, I likewise drew her back.

" Think not," continued that ruffian who wore
the outward semblance of gentility, " that I shall
be afraid to use this weapon : for I have already
told you that you are to regard me as one stand-
ing in a desperate position. Hear me, then, while
I swear that if you do not enter into the compact
which I shall presently propose to you, I will level
you both dead at my feet ! I will then set fire to
the building— and in a short time not a trace of
the deed will be left! Look! behold ! there are
quantities of timber in this building — the confla-
gration would spread rapidly "

" My God ! is it possible," I exclaimed, " that
any being in mortal shape can give utterance to
such horrible menaces ?"

" Yes — here stands the being !" responded the
stranger ; " and rest assured that he is a man en-
dowed with desperate energies ! Will you hear
the compact which I have to propose? I have
already told you. Miss Percy, that I have full
faith in your honour and integrity ; and I know
that if you swear to keep a given pledge your vow
will be sacred. Swear, then, that never during
my lifetime will you breathe to a living soul one
single tittle or particular of the discourse you yes-
terday heard pass betwixt me and the old gipsy
crone I Swear that if you hereafter find out who
I am, you will keep the seal of silence upon your
lips ! Swear that you will do nothing which shall
I in any way compromise my safety ! That girl
who is with you must likewise swear in the same
sense and to a similar effect. You yourself, Miss
Percy, will take the oath on her account as well as
on your own ; for I must have every possible
guarantee on the one hand, if I consent to aban-
don the alternative of utter desperation on the
other hand."

I shuddered from bead to foot as the wretch
was thus addressing me ; and by this time I had
seen sufficient of his character to be only too well
aware that he was thoroughly capable of carrying
out his murderous design if the compact which he
proposed should be refused. The farm-building
was in a lonely place — there stood that desperate
villain, with a doublebarelled pistol at a distance
of about a dozen paces from Beda and myself—
the only other person within earshot was Black
Ned, holding the horse, and he was not to be ap-
pealed to for succour in this terrible strait !

" You see. Miss Percy," continued the stranger,
" I am content to place my life upon an oath
from your lips. It is the highest compliment
which could possibly be paid to your character for
truthfulness. I do frankly confess that I enter-
tain so elevated an opinion of you "

" Do not be moved by what he says. Miss !"
ejaculated the intrepid Beda : " he dares not ac-
complish this tremendous crime !"

" And what if the scaffold or transportation
were looming before my eyes ?" said the stranger,
" think you not that I should adopt any course
no matter how desperate in order to place myself

in security ? On my soul, it is no vain threat on
my part! Such a joke would be insensate to a
degree ! Decide quickly— time is passing !— and
a decision must be arrived at ! As there is a

Leaven above us "

"And a hell yawning at your feet, miserable
man !" I said with solemn emphasis

"We will risk all that," he rejoined, with a
mingled hardihood and levity which served as an
additional corroboration, if any were required, of
the idea I had already formed of his desperate
character. "Now then, decide!" he ejaculated :
and bis pale countenance displayed a horrible
firmness. "This is no child's play ! — you both
stand upon the threshold of a terrible tragedy-
murder and conflagration By heaven, it is

true ! and your minutes are numbered unless you
kneel and invoke God to attest the oath which
you are to take to my dictation !"

" Oh, my poor Beda!" I cried, bursting into
tears : "in what horrible dangers have I involved
you!— to what a frightful precipice have I in my
madness brought you !"

"Do not weep for me, dearest mistress ! — kind
and excellent friend!" exclaimed Beda, throwing
herself into my arms. "I care not for myself!

But your life is so precious "

" Oh ! were it but my life alone, dear girl," I
murmured, as I strained her to my bosom, " no-
thing should induce me to save it on such condi-
tions ! But you whom I have brought to the

verge of this fearful peril "

" Decide quick !" exclaimed the stranger : " for
I am impatient!" — and the sharp click of the
pistol, as it was being cocked, fell upon our
ears.

At that instant an idea struck me : my mind,
rapid as a lightning flash, glanced over the details
of the oath which the villain had dictated ; and still
straining Beda in my arms, I hastily whispered
to her, " We will purchase our lives on his condi-
tions!— our deaths would leave him only the more
free to prosecute his iniquities in other quarters !"
" Do as you will, dear Miss," replied Beda,
also in a whisper : " it is for you to decide in this
as in everything !"

Disengaging myself from the faithful girl's
embrace, I turned towards the gentleman-rufiian,
and said, "Two helpless females cannot contend
against one who is armed with the two-fold wea-
pons of a pistol and a murderous intent ! We
accept your proposition."

" 'Tis well !" answered the stranger. " You
know the oath which I dictated ? Eepeafc it— let
the girl likewise repeat it — and then your lives
shall be spared !"

" I swear," I said, and I made a tign for Beda
to repeat the words which were issuing from my
lips, — " I swear that I will not during your life-
time breathe to a living soul aught which I yes-
terday heard pass between yourself and the old
gipsy woman ! I swear that I will say nothing
wlaich shall compromise your safety — and that if I
should herealter discover who you are, I will not
say to any one that I am acquainted with aught
to your prejudice !"

" To all this you swear ?" said the stranger :
" and you call heaven to attest the validity of your
oath ?"

" I swear," I answered.

"And I likewise swear to the same effect,"
added Beda firmly.

"You also swear," continued the stranger, still
holding the pistol in a menacing manner, " that
you will not at any time hereafter, so long as I
live, violate this oath on the ground that it was
extorted from you by threats of death ? You will
not seek to put this salve upon your conscience,
and either consider or affect to consider that your
duty to society constrains the violation of such an
oath P In short, on no plea and under no pretext
is your vow to be broken : and to this you likewise
swear ?"

" To all this I likewise swear,'* I said, in a firm
tone.

" And I also," added Beda.
The stranger reflected for a few moments ; and
then he said, " I do not think that I have af-
forded you any loophole to escape from the bind-
ing solemnity of this oath. You are honourable.
Miss Percy — and I am assured likewise that your
youthful dependant, taking you as an example, is
high-minded and sincere ; and therefore it is not
only the exact text, but hkewise the spirit of the
oath that must be adhered to,"

" The vow," I replied, " as dictated by yourself,
is so special in its terms — so precise and unmis-
takable—that its entire spirit is contained in its
language."

" Thank you for this candour, Miss Percy," re-
joined the stranger. " I am now about to leave
you; and I on my part swear that so far as I my-
self am concerned, neither of you need apprehend
any farther molestation nor hindrance. 1 believe
however that the gipsies will exact a vow having
the effect of impunity for themselves ; and then
you will both be restored to freedom."

Having thus spoken, the stranger hastily re-
treated from the room ; and he instantaneously
replaced the wooden bar outside.

" We are still prisoners, my dear Beda !" I said,
in some degree of consternation at the closing
incident of the scene. " I thought that we were
to be restored to immediate freedom — and I ought
to have stipulated for it before we took the
oath !"

" Is the oath really binding ?" inquired Beda,
"Alas, yes!" I responded: " to all intents and
purposes it is binding! But listen. We did not
pledge ourselves to abstain from adopting any
course to frustrate the iniquitous designs of that
man, if by accident we should be enabled to dis-
cover a clue to them. It was this point which
struck me as I rapidly reviewed the terms of the
oath which he dictated. We shall find out who
he is — we will institute the minutest inquiries into
his circumstances and affairs ; and perhaps we
shall thereby ascertain who the individual may be
that stands inconveniently in his path and whom it
would suit his purposes to remove by means of
poison. Then, without any violation of our oath,
we may find the means of administering the anti-
dote—which thank heaven we have in our posses-
sion !"

" And now," said Beda, " what course will you
pursue. Miss, in reference to these vile people
who still keep us in custody ? See ! the stranger
is taking his departure : and now he is whispering
to that man who has been holding his horse !"
On glanciug through the back window, I per-

ELLEN 3?EKCy; OH, THE MEilOIKS OF \1< ACXHESS.

397

ceived that it was as Beda bad just stated ; and
now the gentleman rode away.

"He must live somewhere in this neighbour-
hood," I said ; " and if we gain our freedom, we
shall have no dif&culty in discovering who he is.
But in the past hour, Beda," I added solemnly,
" we have escaped a frightful danger ; and though
we have still an unscrupulous wretch in the shape
of the old gipsy-woman to deal with, yet we must
not despair !"

" You understood, Miss, what the stranger said ?
It is purposed to extort from us a similar
oath "

" Hush !" I said : " some one is approaching !"

In a few moments the door was opened ; and
Black Ned made his appearance, armed with his
stout bludgeon, as if ho thought that it was expe-
dient to assume a menacing aspect and to endea-
vour to overawe us as much as possible.

" So you've come to an understanding with that
gentleman, my pretty birds," said Black Ned,
with a gay familiar smile. " Well, so much the
better ! — there is nothing like settling business in a
comfortable way ! I think I can now promise
that in a few hours you will be ecabled to take
your departure; for Dame Betty will call upon
you in the evening ; and you've only got to go
through the same ceremony with her as you did
with that gentleman. She is obliged to go into
Petersfield on a little business, which may detain
her till the after-part of the day ; and so you must
have patience."

Elick Ned paused; and as neither Beda nor
myself spoke a syllable of either comment or
reply, he went on to say, " I told the gentleman
as how you had pitched your food out of the
window — at which he was very much concerned ;
for he said your conduct was very lady-like, and
he didn't wish you to be persecuted. So ho has
just ridden round to the cottage to give orders
that the best dinner possible shall be presently
served up to you. I hope, therefore, you will be
able to make yourselves comfortable until the
evening, when you can very soon settle your little
business with Dame Betty — and then you will be
free."

Having thus spoken, Black Ned retired from
the room ; and again was the wooden bar fastened
outside the door.

" If we take this oath," I said to Beda, " fare-
well to all the projects which brought us down
into this part of the world !— and never from
Dame Betty's lips may I succeed in extorting the
information it so much behoves me to acquire !"

"Then what will you do, MissP" asked Beda.
" Be not influenced on my account — think only of
that which best suits your own interests "

"We will be guided by circumstances," I re-
sponded : then, after a few moments' reflection, I
said, " This man alone is left to guard us "

" Ah !" ejaculated Beda, with lightning rapidity
fathoming the idea which had sprung up in my
mind: "the same thought for a moment struck
me ! While Black Ned was in the room, I glanced
towards you : if at the instant your eye had met
mine, and you had compi-ehended the significancy
of my look, the attempt should have been made !
But I dared not act unless in prompt accord with

yourself: otherwise "

" Well, my dear Beda," I said, " we will give

the subject our most serious consideration. The
man will return presently to bring us tho pro-
mised food ; and we may then adopt a decisive
course."

I continued to discuss with my faithful depen -
dant the plan which had suggested itself ; and wo
agreed that if circumstances permitted, we would
put it into execution. Preparatory to that pro-
ceeding, we broke up ono of the crazy old chairs,
so as to supply ourselves with a couple of stout
staves — which we concealed on the bed, beneath
our shawls. As for tho residue of the broken
chair, we put all those fragments completely out
of sight under the bed. Wo now examined the
trap-door which Black Ned had put up to the
front window as a shutter ; and finding that there
was a chink in the pieces of deal boards which
formed it, we took turns to keep watch in tho
direction of the cottage.

The time passed away ; and as near as we could
judge (for I had left my watch at the hotel) it
was between four and five o'clock in the afternoon
when Beda, who was peeping through a chink at
the time, announced that tho tall gipsy female was
approaching with a large basket, which she car-
ried upon her head, like market-women in Covent
Garden. Beda and 1 hastily recapitulated the de-
tails of the project which we had determined to
adopt : and then we awaited the moment for car-
rying our design into execution — always sup-
posing that circumstances would permit. I should
observe that Black Ned had been for the most
part stationed in the adjoining room, smoking his
pipe, — no doubt keeping watch there that he
might be ready to rush in upon us in case any
stranger should come that way and the slightest
sound should be overheard of the trap-door shutter
being taken down in our prison-apartment. All
of a sudden we heard Black Ned exclaiming,
" There's a delicious smell ! If this don't tempt
the young birds in the next room to keep their
food instead of pitching it out of the window, I'm
sure I don't know what will! What is it you
have got f"

Then we heard the woman reply, " A nice roast
fowl — a bit of bacon — a dish of greens and pota-
toes."

" Capital 1" cried Black Ned: "it makes my
mouth water ! But when they have done I shall
have a rare feast on what they leave behind."

" Come, help me down with this basket," said
the woman in a surly tone. "Don't you think
it's heavy enough ?"

" Here you are !" said Black Ned, " it's done in
the twinkling of an eye ! The tray — a lily white
napkin — everything suitable! Well, never were
prisoners so nicely regaled before !"

" There I" ejaculated the woman in a tone of
vexation, " if I haven't gone and forgotten the
bread !"

" Then run back to the cottage as quick as ever
you can and fetch it," said Black Ned. " I'll
arrange all these things neat and tidy on the tray
while you're gone. You won't be many mi-
nutes."

" What a deal of trouble it all is !" growled the
woman ; and then wo heard her descending the
ladder-like stairs.

" Everything is favourable," I whispered to
Beda, with n sense of exultation at the heart:

398

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THB MBMOIRS OB' AH ACTEES9.

" we shall only have one at a time to deal
with !"

For the next two or three tninufcea we heard
Black Nod arranging the dishes and bottles upon
the tray ; and then he began to remove the
wooden bar from the door. He opened the door
— he lifted up the tray from the floor, where he
had been arranging it — and he entered the room.
"With a countenance expressive of good humour —
doubtless in anticipation of the remnant of the
feast on which he had calculated — Black Ned ex-
claimed with a smile, " Here, my birds, is some-
thing to cheer your captivity ! But that won't
be very long if you are wise— as I have no doubt
you intend to be."

While he was yet speaking, a rapid exchange
of glances passed betwixt Beda and myself : and
then the next moment wo precipitated ourselves
upon the gipsy-man. Down fell the tray, every-
thing upon it tumbling with a crash ; and the
floor was bespread with the viands and the con-
tents of the bottles. Beda had said at the out-
set of our enterprise that she had the energy to
spring like a tigress at any one of the foes whom
we might have to encounter; and iu good sooth
she fulfilled her promise now. From beneath
the shawls upon the bed did she snatch the
bludgeons which we had provided and which the
broken chair had furnished ; and just at the mo-
ment when with a cry of rage Black Ned was
about to spring up from the floor, Beda bestowed
upon him a merciless blow. It struck him upon
the head ; and he sank back heavily. For an in-
stant I feared that the wretch was slain : but we
quickly discovered that he was only stunned ; —
and that he was thus rendered insensible was a
fortunate circumstance, inasmuch as it enabled
us to complete our work without further trouble.
With the cordage which had been used for fasten-
ing the bar outside the door, we bound his arms
and legs : we then cut away the rope which was
hanging from the pulley over the trapdoor in the
.'adjacent room; and with a portion of this fresh
cord we attached him in such a way to one of the
iron bars of the windows that it was utterly im-
possible for him either to free himself from his
bonds or to remove from the spot where we left
him lying.

Thus far we had succeeded ; and we exchanged
looks of triumph. We then gathered up the re-
mainder of the cord, which we required for an-
other purpose; and we peeped through the chink
in the shutter of the front window to see whether
the tall gipsy-woman was yet returning. Yes —
sure enough, she was hastening across the field,
with something which proved to be the loaf of
bread, enveloped in a white napkin. Beda and I
hastily descended the ladder-like steps; and we
concealed ourselves on each side of the door in the
manner most convenient for pouncing upon the
woman. In a few minutes she came tripping in :
but in the twinkling of an eye she was hurled
down, thrown upon her back, and overpowered.
For a moment she struggled : but Beda, brandish-
ing the bludgeon before her countenance, vowed
that she would mercilessly strike if the woman did
not keep still. A diabolical expression of rage
appeared upon her features : but she off'ered no
further resistance. We bound her with the cord
— but leaving a suflicient length for the pur- 1

• pose of her further restraint ; and we likewise
used the napkin which enveloped the bread, to
fasten around her limbs. We then by main force
dragged her up the ladder into the room where
we had left Black Ned ; and wo attached the ex-
tremity of the cord which hold her powerless, to
one of the bars of the other window. She spoke
not a syllable : but a look of almost wild surprise
seized upon her coutitenanca as she caught the
first glimpse of Black Ned's prostrate form. He
was now just beginning to recover : broken impre-
cations were issuing from his lips ; but Beda and
I, hurrying from the room, closed the door.

" They are safely bound," I said : " but still we
will make doubly sure I"

We now looked about for something wherewith
to fasten up the wooden bar which had hitherto
been used to keep the door secure against our-
selves ; and in a corner I luckily found a long
stout piece of rope. This we used in the same
manner as the gipsies had used the cordage which
originally bound the hands of Beda and myself:
namely, by fastening it to the strong latch and
then around the bar itself.

I need hardly add that we had taketi care to
bring out our bonnets and shawls from the room
which had served as our prison ; and now hastily
putting them on, we quitted the farm-buildings.
It was our intention to speed back to Petersfield
with the least possible delay, — when all of a sud-
den Beda exclaimed, "There is the old woman !"

And sure enough, there she was within fifty
yards of the cottage, towards which she was
hobbling. The idea struck me that it would be
an admirable sequence to the feat which wo had
just performed, if we could turn the tables com-
pletely on Dame Betty by compelling her to enter
upon the confession which had been so abruptly
nipped at the outset on the preceding evening :
but I was loath to compel my faithful Beda to
run any additional risk. She however divined
what was passing in my imagination, as I stopped
short and gazed wistfully in the direction where
Dame Betty's form was still visible ; and she at
once said, " Come, my dear Ivliss, our path does
not lie back to Petersfield : — it is yonder !"

" No, Beda," I said ; " much though I myself

might be inclined "

" And are not my interests identical with
your's ?" ejaculated the intrepid girl. " Oh ! it
would be leaving our work only half done! — and
remember, my dear Miss Percy, that never again
may you perhaps find such an opportunity ! Be-
sides, I am convinced you must feel inspired with

all possible courage "

" Well then, ray dear Beda, since you insist
upon it, we will go ! Yet remember, there is still

that man whom they call John "

" He does not appear to have been anywhere
about the neighbourhood to-day," replied Beda;
" and it is at all events something that we must
risk. Come, Miss ! — ten to one we shall catch
the vile old dame alone ; and if so, we will wring
the needful confession from her lips."

During the latter part of this conversation
Dame Betty had disappeared from our view, —
she having entered her cottage. It was now
growing dusk ; and we sped in the direction of
that habitation. We however made something of
a circuit, so as to avoid being seen from the back

windows; and we thus reached the side of the
cottage, iu which there was no window at all.
Then we glided round towards the front door ; and
we saw a light shining through the window of the
same room where the adventure of the preceding
evening had taken place. The shutter was not
now closed, so that we could peep into that room;
and we beheld Dame £otty just iu the act of
bringing forth a bottle and a mug from the cup-
board. There was already a pewter flagon — no
doubt filled with water — on tho table; so that it
was evident the dame was about to enjoy her-
self.

" I am afraid we shall interrupt her pleasure,"
whispered Beda, " and in a manner that will prove
somewhat astonishing. She is probably intent on
fortifying herself with some strong waters previ-
ous to the interview which she of course expects
she is presently to have with us up at the farm-
buildings."

" Now for the final campaign, my dear girl !" I
said, whispering to Beda ; and we stepped up to
the front-door.

We found that it opened by means of a com-
mon handle : we entered — and then wo opened
the door leading into the room where Dame
Betty had just seated herself. The very instant
we opened the door, she querulously cried forth,
" Where have you been all this time ?" — evidently
fancying that it was the attendant who had re-
turned.

But a sudden cry of rago and astonishment
burst from her lips on beholding us ; and the next
instant she was in our power.

" Now, vile woman," I cried, " everything has
turned against you ! — but still will I give you the
same chance that last evening I afforded. Down
upon your knees — confess your iniquitiea —and
you may reckon upon saving your life !"

" Miss Percy," said the old hag, " this is too
bad of you when I was just coming up to set you
free of my own accord ! But how did it happen ?
who was it that "

" We emancipated ourselves," I interrupted
her ; " and it will be well if you presently go to
our recent prison-house to release your accom-
plices: otherwise, in the condition we have left
them, powerless and motionless as they are, they
may perhaps perish with the night's cold."

" Ob, you are a wonderful young lady, and no
one can contend against you!" exclaimed the
harridan, who was now endeavouring to adopt a
fawning, cajoling air.

" Cease this useless verbiage," I said j " and
confess your iniquities !"

"Yes, yes— 1 will confess — I will tell you
everything," said the hag, in a tremulous tone :
" but pray have mercy upon me!" — and she sank
upon her knees.

" First and foremost," I exclaimed, " answer
me this question — and by your reply bball I be
enabled to judge whether you mean truthfully to
unbosom yourself of your many deeds of turpi-
tude. Say then — how happened it that some
seven or eight years ago — I kuow not exactly how
many— periiups more than I have said,— how hap-
pened it, I <xtk, that certain of your enveuouied
lozenges fell into the hands of a person bearing
the name of Parks P"

Ii< was almost a shriek of mingled surprise and

affright which the infamous woman sent forth
from her lips as I mentioned that name. I was
therefore at once convinced that my conjecture
was correct, and that her iniquitous hands had
proved the source of the poison which had de-
prived my grandfather of his life !

" Ah, there is guilt in your accents ! guilt
stamped upon your countenance !" I exclaimed,
my soul terribly excited at the thought that the
wretch before me had been, so to speak, tho mur-
deress of my grandfather. " Say ! to whom did
you sell your drugs ? Was it to Mrs. Parks — or
to her son— or to both P Speak quick ! — tho truth
shall be extorted from you ! Confess — or we will
at once drag you off to Potersfield and consign
you into the hands of justice!"

" Yes — speak, infamous woman !" cried Beda,
also adopting an air of menace towards the bag,
who was now kneeling before us.

"Miss Percy, I mean to confess everything — I
mean to tell you everything !" said Dame Betty,
her voice all quivering, as well as her frame, with
the violent emotions that shook her. " But for
heaven's sake spare me ! do not send an old
woman like me to the scaffold ! I will tell you

Let me reflect P It is now the year 1812

Well, then, as near as I can remember, it

must have been as mucti as eight or nine years

back that I happened to be at York "

" Ah !" I ejaculated, " where Thomas Parks
lived at the time !"

" Yes, yes — he was a lawyer's clerk," continued
Dame Betty. " I remember him well — he had
red hair — his face was all covered with freckles —

his eyelashes were white — he wore spectacles ■

is that the man you speak of?"

"The very same," I answered. " But be quick!"
— for I saw that the dame, even while she knelt,
was glancing either furtively or abstractedly
around — and I did not altogether like her look.

"Well then," she continued, "I fell in with
that man But, Ah! Miss Percy," she sud-
denly interrupted herself, " what if I could give
you proofs of the tale I am about to tell? —
what if I could show you letters that had

passed "

"If you could do this," I eagerly interjected,
— "if you could show me how the guilt is to bo
incontrovertibly brought home to Thomas Parks,
I would spare you to the utmost extent of my

power: for you know not the importance "

" Well, Miss Percy," said the harridan, slowly
rising from her kneeling posture, " I am in your
power — I must do all that I can — and as it is now

a matter of saving myself "

"It is. But be quick! be quick!— for time
presses !"

" A few moments will settle the business," an-
swered the dame. " That cupboard"— aud a'.io
pointed to one which stood in a recess — " contains
all the documentary evidence which you may re-
quire."

Thus speaking. Dame Betty took up the candle
from the table, and began hobbling towards the
cupboard.

" Beware of treachery, dearest Miss !" hastily

whispered Beda. "She may have pistols "

"One word, dame!" I ejaculated, clutching the
old woman by the arm. " You will perhaps suffer
me to look into the cupboard for you— aud you

4C'U

miEJf PEKCr; OB, THE JIEIIOIES OF AN ACXEESS.

caa tell ine where I may lay my hand upon the
documents,"

" There is a secret spring, Miss," responded
Dame Betty : " you could not open it."

" Perhaps not," I said : " but at all events you
and I will go to the cupboard together."

" Oh, to be sure! I would much rather indeed !
—for i know you have every reason to mistrust
me. But now I am behaving fairly towards
you "

" Then let me at onco have the proof of it," I
exclaimed.

I kept close by the side of Dame Betty ; and
Beda was immediately behind us. Oa reaching
the cupboard door, the dame opened it ; and she
at ouce placed the candle upon one of the shelves.
The cupboard contained a miscellaneous quantity
of articles— Guch as clothes, jars, bottles, provi-
sions, candles, and so forth,

"The secret spring is here," said Dame Betty,
thrusting both her hands into the midst of the
articles of raiment.

I was so close to her that our forms touched : I
held my own hands in readiness to seize upon her
in case she should draw forth a weapon from
amongst those garments ; and Beda was close be-
hind, also prepared to spring upon her.

"Ah! there is somebody coming!" suddenly
ejaculated the dame, as if in a tone of exulta-
tion.

I glanced towards the door of the room — Beda
sprang to the table and caught up a knife which
lay there : but at that very instant the treacherous
old hag thrust something into my face— and con-
sciousness abandoned me as if lightning had
stricken ray brain.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

THE STErGGLE.

I HAD better here describe in the form of consecu-
tive recital what then took place in the cottage, as
it was subsequently explained to me from the lips
of Beda.

The ejaculation of the treacherous old woman,
to the effect that somebody was coming, had sent
Beda bounding towards the table to snatch up the
knife : for the intrepid girl was resolved that if
fresh dangers menaced us, we should not be again
overpowered without a desperate resistance. But
scarcely bad Beda thus caught hold of the weapon,
when she heard something fall heavily ; and
glancing back, she had just time to perceive that
I was lying motionless on the floor — and then
Dame Betty aimed at the young girl a terrific
blow with her crutch. Beda instinctively raised
her arm to ward it off: but the crutch struck her
with such violence that the knife was jerked from
her hand, and her arm fell to her side, powerless
as if brol^cn. A savage yell of triumph burst
from the lips of Dame Betty : she aimed another
despe/ate blow at Beda — but the young girl
started back, thereby avoiding tbis second as-
sault, which would perhaps have proved fatal.
But she tripped over something and fell upon the
floor. Another cry of fiendish exultation burst
from the lips of the old hag ; and with the fury of

a demoness did she precipitate herself upon Eeda's
prostrate form. Tbo knife was within the ha ''s
reach: she snatched it up— and in the twinkling
of an eye it would have been all over with my
faithful dependant, when suddenly the rustling of
a dress was heard at the door, and the words,
" Forbear, I command you !" reverberated through
the room.

Dame Betty looked up; and in the twinkling of
an eye her wrist was caught by the entering
female — the knife was snatched from her hand
and hurled into a corner of the apartment.

" Zarah !" ejaculated the hag.

" Zarah I dear Zarah ! you have saved my life !"
exclaimed Beda, now hurling the harridan off her
and springing up to her feet.

" Good heavens, Ellen !" cried Zarah, now ca'ch-
ing eight of me as I lay senseless upon the floor :
and she bounded towards me. " Vile wicked
woman !" she exclaimed, darting a fierce look of
anger, loathing, and abhorrence at her grand-
mother, "is this the way you keep the solemn
pledges you made me ?"

" Por heaven's sake save my dear mistress !
save her if you can, Zarah !" cried Beda, full of
terror and anguish ; lor my countenance was pale
as death, and I indeed looked like one dead.

But in the meanwhile Zarah had not been idle.
She had taken from about her person a small
smelling-bottle containing some powerful scent ;
and she had applied it to my nostrils. I slowly
began to recover — but very slowly in. eedj so that
when my eyes opened I had but a dim conscious-
ness of whose countenance it was that was bend-
ing over mine as Zarah sustained me in her arms.

" Hold your mistress thus, Beda, for a few
minutes," snid Z.irah : and she consigned me to
the care of the faithful girl.

I should observe that Beda had by this time
recovered the use of the arm which had been
smitten with the crutch ; it was not broken, nor
indeed seriously injured, though for many days
afterwards it rctrdued the marks of the blow that
had been inflicted.

" Come with mo," said Zarah, speaking in an
imperious tone to the old woman.

Tbe hag obeyed her ; for she evidently stood
much in fear of her granddaughter. They went
forth together into the passage, where they stood
upon the threshold of the front door, conversing
in a low tone. Beda — though keeping her eyes
anxiously and affectionately riveted on my coun-
tenance-listened with suspended breath to catch,
if possible, anything of what was taking place
between Mrs, St, Clair and her grandmother.
She could not hear a syllable which was spoken
by the old woman : but tbe following broken
sentences, forming part of what Zarah was saying,
were overheard by Beda: —

" You pledged yourself never again to harm
her — you have violated your promises— wretched
woman — must end by driving her to invoke the
aid of the taw — scaffold — ignominious death!
Why pursue these nefarious ways— offered you a
competency — your stupid gipsy prejudices — re-
fused to take anything from my hand — prefer ac-
quiring money— all kinds of tortuous means—
ovej' involved in plots and intrigues — my firm
resoluiion — yes, do not misunderstand me— there
shall bo an end — on the Continent for lit'e."

LADY KELVBDON

Thi8 was all Beda could catch: but st.U those
broker, sentences conveyed sufficient to render the
faithful girl fully aware that Zarah was altogether
our friend, and that she not merely deprecated the
Tile proceedings of her grandmother, but was re-
lolved to put an end to them. S'^V^V aftr
W returned into the room ; and Zarah after
castin.^ a glance upon my countenance and per-
ce V ini th "t I was in a fair way towards recovery
again turned her fierce angry looks upon the old
woman, exclaiming, "And now begone 1
No. 61.— Ellen Pekct.

"No! no!" cried Beda: "let her not depart!
She will bring hither others——"

" She will not dare do so," interrupted Zarah
emphatically. "Trust everything to me, Beda:
you and your dear mistress are sale! Begone,
grandmother !-and remember what I have told

^°The old dame, mumbling something that was
inaudible-looking half savage and half discom-
fited-was moving towards the cupboard, whea
Zirah clutched her forcibly by the arm, exclaim-

402

ELLEN PilSCT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OV AH ACTRESS.

ing, " Xo ! you shall take nothing thence ! — you
require nothing! Depart, I insist ! — or by every-
thing sacred I swear that I will not protect you
from Eilen Percy's righteous vengeance— and if
jou tarry long enough to afford her time to breathe
a wish that you be given into custody, X will not
speak a syllable nor stretch forth a hand to save

you!" ,., ,

Dame Betty flung a look of mingled defiance
and deprecating entreaty upon her granddaughter :
but Zarah was evidently resolute — and she felt
that ehe had the power to dictate and to com-
mand with the certainty of being obeyed. The
hag muttered something between her lips — drew
the hood of her cloak over her head — and hobbled
out of the room.

" Now, dear Beda," said Zarah, '•' we must get
your mistress away : my carriage is waiting at no
very great distance "

"Zarah, dear Zarah," I murmured — for the
faculty of speech was now slowly returning, and
my ideas were recovering from bewilderment and
confusion — " is it to you that I am indebted for
my life r"

"Yes— it is Zarah who has saved you, my be-
loved mistress ?" exclaimed Beda, affectionately
kissing me on both cheeks, as she still sustained
me in her arms.

" Vile old woman !" muttered Zarah, in accents
that were just audible : and stooping down, she
picked up from the floor a dingy crumpled artifi-
cial white rose.

Ah ! that white rose ! — it was the weapon with
which Dame Betty had so treacherously worked !
i— the weapon with which she had sought to take
my life ! Zarah threw it into the fire, with every
evidence of horror, disgust, and loathing : and then
she ransacked the cupboard to glance at its con*
tents. Three or four bottles as well as little boxes
did she take thence ; and all these she threw into
the fire likewise.

" I know not what they contain," she said, as
she heaped more wood upon the grate : " but this
at least is the safest way to deal with them. And
now, dear Ellen, do you feel yourself well enough
to walk ?"

" Yes," I said, rising from Beda's arms, and at
first resting my hand upon her shoulder : " the
dizziness is passing away from me."

" Inhale that scent once more, and you will be
quite well," said Zarah.

I applied to my nostrils the little smelling-
bottle which she handed me ; and the salutary
effects were speedily felt.

" Xow come quick," said Zarah : " my carriage
is at no great distance — and we will repair to
Petersfield."

"We issued forth from the cottage ; and the fresh
air completed my restoration. For a few minutes
I experienced a slight headach : but by the time
we reached the carriage, which was only a quarter
«f a mile distant, I was as well as if nothing had
occurred. Zarah's travelling-equipage was in
waiting : the coachman was on the box — the foot-
man opened the door— we all three entered, and
the carriage drove away.

"It happens," observed Zarah, "that I have
taken up my quarters at the same hotel where
you have been stopping, I have learnt from
that wicked woman whom with shame and

sorrow I am compelled to acknowledge as my
relative, everything that has happened. You
have been detained prisoners since yesterday even-
ing ; and your absence from the hotel must
therefore be accounted for. This is not diffi-
cult. You will say that you walked a little
way out of the town last evening to see a friend—
and that being taken Ul, you remained there to
sleep. It can be further stated that I accidentally
called at the same house ; and finding you there,
brought you back in my carriage, as we are inti-
mate friends. The discretion of my servants can
be relied upon ; and they will say nothing to con-
tradict the tale."

"■ And how did you know, Ziirah," I inquired,
" that we had been to Petersfield and had taken
up our quarters at that hotel ?"

" I must give you a few explanations, my dear
Ellen," answered Zarah. " Since my marriage
with St. Clair I have kept spies to watch the pro-
ceedings of my grandmother; and I received a
letter from Birmingham, to the effect that Beda
had been there making secret inquiries concern-
ing the old woman. I thought that there must be
something wrong ; and I went to your house in
i&reat Ormond Street. There I saw your friend
Miss Glen^worth; and without seeming to have
any special object in view, I so questioned her
that I learnt you had come down to Petersfield.
Knowing that my grandmother was in this neigh-
bourhooo, I felt convinced that your visit hither,
following so closely upon the inquiries instituted
by Beda at Embledon and Birmingham, must have
some reference to the old woman. I grew
alarmed— especially as you had kept me altogether
in the dark concerning the business, whatsoever it
might be. X at once set off, and I arrived at
Petersfield about an hour ago. The first inquiry
I made at the hotel, elicited the fact that you had
put up there, but that you bad been absent
with your dependant since yesterday evening ; so
that some little alarm was entertained on your
account, though still it was more than half be-
lieved that you must have gone to visit some
friend who detained you. And now you under-
stand, my dear Eilen, how it was that I made my
appearance at the cottage some half-hour back."

" And doubtless, Zarah," I said in a serious
tone, " your grandmother informed you of my
object "

" Alas, yes 1" responded Mrs. St. Clair, heaving
a profound sigh. "' You sought information rela-
tive to some iniquitous transaction which she had
with a person ot the name of Parks a few years
ago ? You will believe me when I assure you
that of this transaction I myself was utterly
ignorant until within the hour that is now pass-
ing. But rest assured, Ellen, that I will help you
in your designs relative to Mr. Parks — though you
will not blame me for having ere now adopted a
measure to save my grandmother from your ven-
geance, most righteous though that vengeance
would be : nor will you be astonished if I add that
whatsoever may be the course which we shall
adopt in reference to Mr. Parks, I shall to the
extent of my power continue to screen my grand-
mother."

" I feel, Zarah," I said, " that my position to-
wards you is most embarrassing and unpleasant.
This evening you have saved my life ; and while oa

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE ME3I0IE3 OF AN ACTEES3.

4-03

the one hand I am bound to testify my gratitude
to the very utmost, yet on the other hand the
welfare of society seems to demand that I should
(!hrow aside every consideration and proclaim to
the authorities the true character of your grand-
mother."

" Banish the subject from your memory until
to-morrow morning, if possible — and then I will
tell you something. You will do me this favour,
Ellen — will you not?"

" Impossible were it for me," I rejoined, " to
banish from my memory the recollection of your
grandmother's many iniquities towards me : but
this much will I faithfully promise — that I will take
no step with regard to her until you shall have to-
morrow made your promised communication. But
answer me one thing, Zarah :" — and 1 shuddered
as I thought of the topic on which I was about to
touch. " It was a white rose," I continued,
speaking significantly, " which plunged me into
that stupor — would it not have been the stupor of
death but for the essence which you made me i
inhale P"

" Alas ! truth compels me to admit that it might |
have been," rejoined Zarah ; " though there are
some constitutions which resist the strength of the I
subtle poison — and the poison itself loses its eflPect, '
or rather its extreme potency after a while." j

" I thought so," I said ; for vividly to my mind
was conjured up the circumstance of Lady Lilla I
Essendine's murderous intention towards me, up-
wards of a year back, at Mr. Norman's house in '
Hunter Street. i

" Oh, you may be assured, Ellen," exclaimed j
Zirah, in a tone expressive of the strongest feel-
ings, " that it is most horribly painful for me to :
think or speak of the iniquities of that vile old I
woman whom I am compelled to call my grand- i
mother !" |

"Yes, yes — it must bo so!" I said: "and |
therefore for the present let us banish the topic." |

The hotel was now reached ; and on alighting, I
saw that it was with satisfaction the domestics be- >
held the return of myself and Beda. The tale j
which had been agreed upon was told to account I
for our absence ; and it was evidently received [
without the slightest suspicion of its being un- i
truthful. Indeed, Mrs, St. Clair, as the wife of a !
Right Honourable and a Cabinet Minister, was
treated with the highest distinction ,- and the few i
words which she threw in to corroborate the state-
ment, produced the fullest effect. In about half-
an-hour Zarah and I were seated at the dinner-
table ; and I took good care that Beda should have
an excellent repast served up in her own room ; [
for neither she nor I had tasted a morsel of food |
since the preceding day. The excitement of all
we had passed through had however sustained us
for so many long hours, in a condition which
otherwise would have experienced the eflfects of

sermi famine. I slept well that night : for I was
thoroughly exhausted both in mind and body —
and I did not awake until a late hour in the
morning.

1 should here incidentally observe that Zarah
had not spoken a single syllable in allusion to the
business which had brought Dame Betty to the
cottage in that neighbourhood — I mean her ini-
quitous transaction with the fair-haired stranger.
I therefore concluded that the old hag had re-

1 mained utterly silent upon the subject when con-
versing with her grand-daughter on the preceding
I evening. I myself had retained a seal upon my
lips in reference to that affair: for I was mindful
of the oath which I had taken — I considered it to
be solemnly binding — and I was consequently
careful to abstain from its violation.

After breakfast Zarah said to me, " I last oveU'
ing promised you a certain communication. It
can be conveyed in a few words. My grand-
mother is leaving England, under the solemn
pledge that it shall be for ever. Pardon me— do

not reproach me for subterfuge or trickery

but by this time she is altogether beyond your
reach ; and therefore whatsoever notion you might
have entertained in reference to the duty which
you owe to society, is completely set at rest."

For an instant I was on the point of reproach-
ing Zarah for what struck me to be a little
piece of treachery on her part : but I checked
myself — for I remembered that she had saved my
life — I was under numerous obligations to her —
and moreover I made allowances for her peculiar
position. I thought of all the infamy and dis-
grace which would become attached to herself if it
were proclaimed to the world that she was s)
nearly connected with a wretch of the description
of Dame Betty, I therefore contented myself
by observing, " I do not blame you, Zarah. All
persons in the world have a right to consult their
individual interests. And now let the subject
drop between us. But in reference to Mr.
Parks "

" Listen, my dear Ellen," interrupted Zarah.
" You have just passed through four-and-twenty
hours of the greatest excitement j and your mind
must have leisure to regain its full equilibrium to
recover from its agitation. In two or three days
you shall tell me everything which relates to this
Mr. Parks : for as yet I know scarcely anything
upon the subject. Then, when fully enlightened,
I will advise with you — we will take counsel to-
gether— and I will see how I can best assist you."

" Be it so, Zirah," I observed : for I indeed had
no inclination to enter immediately upon matters
which could not fail to be fraught with a certain
degree of renewed excitement. " Ah !" I ejacu-
lated, as we were standing together at the win-
dow : " behold that beautiful lady in the carriage
that is passing by !"

" She is indeed beautiful," said Zarah. " And
that old gentleman "

" That is Lord Kelvedon," I replied : " and he,
as you may observe, is between sixty and seventy
years of age. That young lady — who certainly is
not more than three-and-twenty — is his wife."

" Indeed !" ejaculated Zarah : " this is a veri-
table illustration of an alliance between December
and May !"

" Lord and Lady Kelvedon are going up to
London," said the waiter, who had just entered
the room. " But I don't suppose it will be for
long, as his lordship has retired from active life,
and has declared his intention of passing the rest
of his existence for the most part at the Hall.
One of the footmen was telling me last evening
that my lord and her ladyship were going to Lon-
don to-day."

" And where is their town-mansion P" inquired
Zarah.

404

BI.LEW PEECT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF Alf ACTRESS.

" In Eaton Square, I believe, ma'am," answered
the waiter.

" Talking of going to London," said Mrs. St.
Clair, " reminds me, my dear Ellen, that we have
as yet made no arrangement in respect to our own
proceedings. You and Beda will of course avail

yourselves of my travelling-carriage "

" I thought of remaining in Fetersfield until
tomorrow," I said : though I did not reveal the
object for which I desired to linger in that town-
fa ut the reader will doubtless comprehend that it
was for the purpose of ascertaining, if possible,
who was the fair-haired stranger that was so inti-
mately connected with the incidents at the ruined
farm-buildings.

" My time shall be your's," said Zarah : and
then, as the waiter still lingered in the room— for
he was clearing away the breakfast things — she
added in a low tone, "I understand you, my dear
Ellen : you require at least a day's repose before
you set out on your return to the metropolis P"

" Yes— I think I should perhaps be better for
a day's rest. Sut do not let me detain you, my

dear Zarah "

" If you have really do private business to
transact, Ellen — and if I shall not be in your

way "

'■ My dear Zarah, how can you think of such a
thing ?"

" Well then," she said, " I will remain with
you."

" And your husband ?" I suggested, still speak-
ing in a low whisper ; for the waiter was yet in
the room.

" Ob, we do not interfere with each other !"
rejoined Zarah— and a scornful smile wreathed
her lip. "We still carry on a species of tacit
warfare — still observe appearances before the

world "

" There is a beautiful horse !" I ejaculated, as I
gave a sudden start : for it was not really the
handsome appearance of the animal which had
thus struck me— but the exclamation served as a
cloak for the effect which the person of the rider
himself produced upon me.

" That gentleman, ma'am," said the waiter,
glancing from the window, " is Lord iCelvedon's
nephew — Mr. CoUingwood."

" Ah ! that is Mr. CoUingwood !" I murmured,
as a sinking sensation seized upon me ; for at the
same moment I comprehended everything.

" Yes, ma'am— that is Mr. CoUingwood," added
the waiter : " and he likewise, I believe, goes up
to London to-day."

The waiter left the room ; and presently I said
to Zarah, " AU things considered, my dear friend
— though perhaps you will fancy me very fickle

• but I repeat, all things considered, I would

rather return to London to-day : for the distance
is not great — and one rides so easy in your car-
riage '"

" Be it so, Ellen, by all means 1" exclaimed Mrs.
St. Clair, who evidently entertained not the slightest
suspicion of any particular motive on my part for
thus altering the plan of my proceedings " We
will at once give the requisite instructions."

The orders were accordingly issued — the bill
was settled — Zarah's handsome equipage was soon
in readiness — and we set off on our return to
London.

CHAPTER LXrX.

HEEMIONE.

It was about six o'clock on that evening when
Beda and I alighted from Mrs. St. Clair's travel-
ling-carriage at the door of my house in Great
Ormond Street. I expected to be welcomed by
Mary Glentworth : but she was not seen gliding
towards me as on any former occasion of my
return from a temporary absence. I however
thought that she might be in her chamber, and
that she had not heard the carriage stop in tke
street: but the maid-servant who opened the door,
said, " Miss Glentworth has gone to dine with Mr.
Wilkinson the lawyer."

" Indeed !" I ejaculated ; for I was stricken
with surprise, wondering why Mr. Wilkinson
could have shown Mary this civility, and whether
the Duke of Ardleigh might have returned to
London earlier than he had expected, and had
thought fit to make some immediate communica-
tion to his natural daughter.

"Oh, yes, Miss!" replied the servant-maid;
" and Miss Glentworth was yesterday for some
hours at Mr. WUkinson's office in Furnival's Inn."
" But he does not live at Furnival's Inn ?" I
said, more inquiringly than positively ; for I was
really ignorant upon the subject.

"His offices are there, I believe. Miss," an-
swered the maid : " but from what Miss Glent-
worth said to me, I fancy that his private resi-
dence is up at Highbury."

I ascended to my own chamber, feeling glad
that the Duke of Ardleigh's lawyer was taking
this notice of Mary Glentworth— but wondering
for what purpose it could be. Having changed
my toilet, I descended to the dining-room, where
dinner was soon served up ; and when the repast
was over, I gave way to my reflections on the in-
cidents which had occurred in the neighbourhood
of Petersfield.

A little after nine o'clock a cab stopped at the
door ; and Mary Glentworth's voice was soon
heard in the ball. She was receiving the intel-
ligence that I had returned home— ejaculations
of joy were bursting from her lips — she sped up
to the drawing-room — and we were clasped in
each other's arms.

" Ob, if I had expected you back so soon, my
dear Ellen," exclaimed Mary, as she turned to-
wards the sofa, on which she threw her bonnet,
scarf, and gloves, " I would not have gone out to
dinner. You see I did not dress myself in full
evening costume ; for Mr. Wilkinson told me that
there were only to be himself, his wife, and daugh-
ters."

" But I am glad that you went, my dear

Mary," I said. " I hope it is a good sign "

" Oh ! I have absolutely learnt nothing more
relative to my uncle's movements than I knew
before !" exclaimed Mary; and stiU she was busied
in arranging her things upon the sofa, so that her
back was towards me.

" Ah ! her uncle ? She stiU calls him her
uncle !" I said to myself ; " and therefore she
yet remains ignorant of everything connected wiih
this momentous secret in respect to her parent-
age."

ELLEN PKECT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS.

495

" But tell me," ahe continued, no«r hastening to
ring the bell for the servant to take her bonnet
and scarf up to her chamber, — " tell me how you
haTe fared at Petersfield ?"

" Beda and myself have experienced many ad*
ventures," I responded ; " and I will narrate them
all presently : suffice it to say for the present that
I hare been so far successful as to ascertain that
it was really the villain !Mr. Parks who purchased
the poison of the old gipsy woman. Bat nothing
can be done in that matter for the moment. And
now tell me, Mary, why did Mr. Wilkinson seek
you? — for it was with pleasure I learnt you were
yesterday for some hours at his office."

" Oh ! he did not seek me," answered Mary
Glentworth — and I perceived that the colour
mounted to her cheeks : " it was I who sought
him. But I am afraid you will be angry that I
thus took any step in « matter wherein perhaps
I ought to have waited "

" I cannot be angry with you, Mary : I have
no right to be angry ! These are your own per-
sonal concerns — and you are fully justified in
obeying the suggestions of your own mind. But
tell me —^"

" Well, my dear Ellen," continued Mary Glent-
worth, still with a certain confusion and embarrass-
ment, so that I feared lest she fancied I was
somewhat annoyed at her proceeding ; " I thought
I should like to know when there was a chance
of my uncle returning to England— I feared that
perhaps I might have been forgotten — so I went
to Mr. Wilkinson. I had to wait a long, long
time before I could see him — he was so busily en-
gaged—and then, on being admitted into his pri-
vate office, I found him so kind, and he treated
me with so much politeness, I remained an hour
in conversation with him. Then — then"— and
still Mary Glentworth seemed to hesitate — " he

asked me to dine at his house to-day so I

went. That is all ! And now tell me your own
adventures."

" Eeally, my dear Mary," I said, " you speak,
and look, and act" — for she had a nervous restless-
ness about her which grieved me — "just as if you
thought I was going to express myself in very
strong and angry terms in respect to your pro-
ceedings towards Mr. Wilkinson. If you regard
me as a sister or as a very dear friend, pray do
not look upon me as one who could domineer over
you or assume a right to be angry, as if you were
a child and I were a very sedate old woman.
Eemember, my dear Mary," I added, smiling,
" there is not such a vsrj/ great difference be-
tween your age and mine ; for I am not yet
quite twenty, and you are precisely two months
younger !"

Mary now laughed gaily ; and embracing me,
she said, " Pray do tell me your adventures,
Ellen !"

I related them partially to her, but leaving out
everything which regarded Mr. CoUingwood ; for
I was resolved to respect the solemn oath which j
I had taken ; and I knew that Beda would do the |
same. I retired early to rest— for I was very ]
much fatigued ; and when I awoke in the morn-
ing, I said to myself, " Now, ere this day be ,
passed, I must by some means or another obtain
an interview with Lady Eelvedon."

But how waa this to be accomplished ? On

what pretence could I seek her ladyship? — and
even if obtaining access to her, how could I carry
out the project which I had in view and still
respect the oath I had taken to Mr. CoUingwood ?
The matter was a difficult one ; and I had not
made up my mind to any particular course when
I descended to the breakfast-table. The morn-
ing's letters were soon afterwards delivered; and
amongst them was one written in a beautiful hand
and coming from Lady Selvedon herself. It had
been penned on the previous evening ; and its
contents ran as follow :—

"Eaton Square, April 2, 1812.

"Lady Kelvedon presents her compliments to
Miss Trafford, and requests the favour of a call at
Miss Trafford's leisure upon some little business of
a professional nature. Lady Kelvedon would
prefer receiving Miss Trafford between the hours
of four and five in the afternoon on any early
day."

I was much struck by the singularity of this
coincidence : it seemed as if heaven itself had
ordained it to occur. The very lady whom but a
few minutes back I had been so much wishing to
have an opportunity of seeing, but to whom I had
known not on what plea to present myself, had
written to invite me to visit her. But that allu-
sion to professional business — was it a colour and
a pretext on her part ? had anything transpired
in respect to my meeting with Mr. CoUingwood to
induce her ladyship thus to send for me ?— or was
it really some affair utterly unconnected there-
with? I knew not what to think : but I was de-
termined to ascertain very speedily ; for inasmuch
as her ladyship had appointed no particular day,
I thought that I oould not do better than pro-
ceed to Eaton Square in the afternoon. I did
not ask Mary Glentworth to accompany me : but
I went alone in my carriage, having about my
person the tin box of pink lozenges which Beda,
had received from Dame Betty some time back,
and which I had ever since carefully preserved.

I arrived at Eaton Square shortly after four
o'clock in the afternoon ; and the carriage stopped
at Lord Kelvedon's handsome residence. Imme-
diately on announcing my name, I was conducted
by a footman to a splendidly furnished drawing-
room, where I found her ladyship seated upon a
sofa with a book in her hand. She immedietely laid
down the book — rose — and received me with the
kindest affability. I have already described her
as being exceedingly good-looking, even when seen
from a distance: but the idea thus formed of her
beauty was by uo means disenchanted on a closer
view. She was dressed for dinner: she wore an
elegant eveniog costume, the low dress displaying
the admirable formation of the bust; and her
beautifully modelled arms were bare almost to the
shoulders. Her brown hair was arranged ia
bands, set off by an exquisite French cap of the
finest lace. A magnificent spaniel was reposing
upon a footstool near her feet. When I had
seen her in the carriage, I had fancied that she
was tall; but I now found that she was not above
the medium stature, — though the blended dignity
and elegance of her bearing, the statuesque car-
riage of the head, and the length of the snowy
nec'c, with the graceful slope of the shoulders,
made her seem taller than she really was.

406

EtiEir PEECT; on, the memoirs op an ACTETJ88.

Haviflff requeste'1 me to be seated, and having
resumed her own place upon the sofa, Lady Kelve-
don said, " I knosr not, Miss Trafford, whether
you can help me in the matter on which I am
about to speak : but at all events you can per-
haps assist me with your advice — and I must offer
my apologies for having given you the trouble to
call upon me."

I now felt tolerably well assured that it was
really a professional matter concerning which Lady
Kelvedon had desired an interview, — though I
was not absolutely certain.

" You must grant me your patience, Miss Traf-
ford," continued her ladyship, " while I give you
a few particulars which will serve as a preface to
farther explanations. I must tell you that at the
same boarding-school where I was educated at
Brighton, there was a young French lady to whom
I became greatly attached. She was an orphan :
she had an uncle who was at the time a merchant
in London ; and as he was her only relative, it
was for this reason that she lived in Eogland and
had been placed at the seminary at Brighton. In-
deed her parents died when she was very young;
so that ever since the age of five or six she has
dwelt in this country. She consequently speaks
the English language without the slightest foreign
accent; and she is highly accomplished. About a
tw?lvemonth back her uncle died suddenly ; and it
was then found that so far from being in a state
of affluence, as was generally supposed, he was
utterly insolvent. His creditors seized upon
whatsoever there was to take ; and the poor young
lady was left almost destitute and almost friend-
less in the world."

" Tet not altogether friendless," I interjected :
" since Lady Kelvedon has evidently taken so kind
an interest in her unfortunate position!"

" Yes," continued her ladyship : " for at school
we were bosom friends— and that friendship has
proved something more than the evanescent
likings of girlhood. My father and mother, at my
intercession, offered her a home, which circum*
stances constrained her to accept. But I am not
too proud to confess to you. Miss Trafford, that
my family is not a rich one. Aline Marcy knows
it ; and she naturally feels unhappy at being a
burden upon their resources, though that burden is
so light a one I Then too she has her little pride ;
and this prevents her from accepting anything
from my purse — though heaven knows she should
be freely welcome ! You might ask me wherefore
I do not give her a home beneath my own roof,
under some such delicate pretext that I require
the society of a friend and companion. But Lord
Kelvedon, though kind and good, has his own pe-
culiar ways and notions and in short, ihat

plan is impossible. And now I come. Miss Traf-
ford, to those explanations to which this long pre-
face was intended to lead."

Her ladyship paused for a few moments, and
then continued in the following manner : —

"Aline Marcy has taken a fancy to the stage.
She is utterly deficient in vanity ; and therefore I
believe that it is the veritable impulse of her
genius which prompts her. Several friends enter-
tain the most favourable opinion upon the point.
She possesses a beautiful person, as I have already
told you ; and her voice is powerful and melodious.
It is her desire to embrace the dramatic profes-

sion. To tell you the truth. Miss Trafford, she
was in London a few months ago, with Mr. and
Mrs. Wyvill, my parents, and she saw you twice
— once in the character of Lady Macbeth, the
second time in that of Juliet. Ever since she has
been studying Shakspere— she has devoured the
dramatic criticisms in newspapers— she has become
convinced that she could at least earn her bread
by the profession which she longs to adopt. She
has conceived an enthusiastic admiration for your-
self; and she earnestly hopes that you will either
consent to become her tutoress in preparing her
for the stage, or that at all events you will be kind
enough to assist her with your counsel how she is
to proceed. I know not in what terms to shape
something which I have yet to say," continued
Lady Kelvedon ; " but perhaps you will under-
stand me. Miss Trafford, when I observe my purse
shall become the source of a liberal reward for
whatsoever effective instructions may be bestowed
upon this young lady in whom I am so deeply in-
terested."

" "Where is Mademoiselle Marcy now P" I in-
quired : for I wished to see the young lady before
1 gave any positive answer.

'• She is staying with me for the present," re-
plied her ladyship. " When I said just now that
it was out of my power to offer her a home be-
neath this roof, I meant a permanent one : but
she is oa a temporary visit here— and if you will
permit me to introduce her, I shall have the
greatest pleasure."

'•■ I should certainly desire to see Mademoiselle
Marcy," I rejoined ; " so that I may on some
points form my judgment ; and then I will speak
more particularly to your ladyship,"

Lady Kelvedon rang the bell, and desired the
footman who answered the summons to request
Mademoiselle Marcy's presence in the drawing-
room. The domestic retired ; and in a few
minutes Aline made her appearance. I beheld
before me a beautiful young woman of about nine-
teen or twenty, with one of those French faces in
which delicacy of features is blended with an ex-
pression of naivete and amiability, with the ani-
mation of intelligence over all. Her figure was
proportioned to the exactest symmetry : her bear-
ing and her attitudes were characterized by
elegance and grace. A modest blush mantled
upon her countenance : but her eyes sparkled with
mingled hope and admiration as she recognised
me. Lady Kelvedon introduced us; and then
making Mademoiselle Marcy sit down by her side,
she said, '• My dear Aline, I have been speaking to
Miss Trafford concerning yourself."

'"Hermione," said the young French lady, in a
low voice, which was full of emotion, "you are ex-
ceedingly kind to me ; and if through your inter-
vention Miss Trafford would only interest herself
on my behalf, I should indeed be rejoiced !"

Aline's voice was full of music : it was flute-
like and strong, but capable of being modulated to
all the various cadences suited for the stage.
This was a great advantage ; while the beauty of
her person and the elegance of her manners could
not fail to prove additional elements of success.
I felt interested in her : and perhaps for that very
reason I might have conscientiously endeavoured
to dissuade her from embarking in a sphere
fraught with so many temptations : but by all I

ELIEX PEECT; OK, THE MEilOIES OP AN ACIEES3.

107

had learnt from Lady Kelvedon's lips, I felt as-
sured that Aline's miad was made up; and there-
fore I said to mjself, " If she be resolved to go
upon the stage, I will at least give her the benefit
of my experiences, and will do all I can to shield
her from harm."

I saw that the utmost affectioa subsisted be-
tween Aline and Hermioue (for such was the
Christian name of the beautiful Lady Kelvedon) ;
and as I was likewise interested in the latter, I had
every inclination to take a step which would be
pleasing to them both. I therefore said, " It will
afford me much delight. Mademoiselle Marcy, to
give you those instructions which may fit you for
the profession that you desire to embrace. At the
same time let me at once frankly and unmistak-
ably observe that I am about to become your
tutoress as a friend — and on no other considera*
tion."

" Oh, Miss Trafford, this is most generous on
your part ?" exclaimed Aline, taking my hand and
pressing it with the most grateful fervour.

We then discoursed upon future arrangements ;
and it was settled that Mademoiselle Marcy
should visit me daily at my own house for an hour
or two, that she might receive the benefit of the
dramatic tuition which I volunteered. When
everything was thus far disposed of, I intimated
that I desired to speak to Lady Xelvedon alone ;
and the beautiful Aline at once retired.

" Your ladyship is resolved," I said, " that
Mademoiselle Marcy shall embrace the profession
of the stage, as her inclination impels r"

" Circumstances appear. Miss Trafford, to
render this course absolutely requisite," was
Hermione's answer.

"And you. Lady Eelvedon, as her friend," I
continued, " will not regret sooner or later the
step to which you are thus giving your assent ?"

"If by any chance she should some day be-
come as famous as yourself. Miss Trafford," re-
sponded Lady Eelvedon, with an amiable smile,
" I should indeed be proud of her ! And yet,"
she immediately added, as a slight shade came
over her countenance, " there is one thing which

is perhaps to be regretted And yet no ! it is

sot always the case !" — and here she gazed steadily
upon my countenance.

" What does your ladyship mean ?" I inquired.

" Did you observe. Miss Trafford, what a beau-
tiful complexion Aline Marcy possesses F Would
it not therefore be a pity if by means of rouge,
cosmetics, and those appliances which are used by
persons appearing on the stage, that delicate bloom
on her cheeks should be destroyed P Yet pardon
me for what I am about to say — but when I look
at your complexion. Miss Trafford, I take courage
on my dear friend Aline's part : for no one would

ever think again I must ask your pardon for

the rudeness of my observations but no one

would ever think that rouge or cosmetic, powder
or tint of any kind had touched yotir cheeks !"

A sudden idea struck me ; and looking with
mysterious significancy in Lady Eelvedon's face, I
said, " That circumstance which you have just
mentioned involves a secret known but to two or
three persons in this country, but which when the
time comes I shall have no objection to impart to
your friend Mademoiselle Marcy."

" A secret, Miss Trafford t" exclaimed Lady

Eelvedon, whose curiosity was evidently piqued,
" Will it be any indiscretion on my part to in-
quire what you mean ?"

I pretended to reflect for a few moments; and
then I said, " After what I have suffered to fall
from my lips, I cannot suddenly stop short and
maintain an air of mystery towards your ladyship.
But before I enter upon any explanation, I must
stipulate for an inviolable secrecy — a secrecy which
will extend even to your husband — to your lady's-
maid especially— and to Mademoiselle Marcy her-
self for the present."

" Oh ! faithfully I promise you. Miss Trafford,"
cried Lady Eelvedon, " that I will observe the
strictest secrecy in respect to whatsoever you may
be about to impart !"

" There is an eminent French chemist," I con-
tinued, " whose ambition it is to devise many use-
ful compounds, but whose eccentricity prompts
him to maintain them a comparative secret and to
confide the knowledge thereof to a very limited
circle. This is his mania, if so it may be termed ;
and I must leave others to account for it. I am
now dealing simply with the fact."

" Proceed, Miss Trafford," said Lady Eelvedon.
" I am already deeply interested."

" This French chemist," I continued, " has com-
pounded certain drugs, which, when taken into
the system, act upon the surface of the skin and
protect it against all those influences which usually
mar and injure its beauty. Thus, with persons of
my profession, it is not merely the little tint of
rouge which is placed upon the cheeks — but it is
likewise the heated atmosphere, the glare of light,
the late hours, the excitement— in a word, a
variety of influences, which give a premature look
of age to those who are still youthful. Now your
ladyship may perhaps smile when I tell you that
this French chemist's drugs are a sovereign
remedy against all these deleterious effects : they
strengthen the texture of the skin — they impart
to it a healthy tone : in a word "

" You need say no more. Miss Trafford !" ex-
claimed Lady Eelvedon, in mingled admiration
and surprise : " for you yourself are a living evi-
dence of the truth of the tale ! Your complexion

is truly beautiful again you must pardon me

for my seeming rudeness "

"Jfo apology is necessary," I interrupted her,
inwardly rejoiced that I had succeeded ia thus
gradually leading the credulous Hermione on unto
the point to which I sought to bring her. " The
tale might seem extraordinary in your ladyship's
estimation, were it not supported by some kind of
evidence ; and I am therefore glad that you are
convinced by those proofs which my own personal
appearance affords. And now let me add that
if I have told you this tale, and in some sense
violated the conditions on which the old French
chemist entrusted me with his secret, it was merely
to set your mind at rest in respect to the beautiful
complexion of your friend Ahne Marcy."

" Ob, I have indeed no longer any fears on that
point !" said Lady Eelvedon ; " and I renew my
promise that the secret shall be faithfully kept.
But do you know. Miss Trafford, that this secret
is a most important one : for 1 believe" — nnd hero
she hesitated — " we are all interested in the pre-
servation of our complexion : heaven knows how
much ladies spend on cosmetics, lotions, and com-

408

BLXEIf PERCY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTEESS.

pounds for preserving and beautifying the skin ! —
and— and"— here she again hesitated and blushed
— " I must frankly admit that I have my little
vanity on the same point. Indeed, I have often
thought that a heated room, or a bleak wind, or

exposure to the sun "

"Ko doubt," I interjected, "these influences
are ruinous to the complexion : nor am I free from
the vanity of our sex. To be candid, Lady Kelve.
don, I study to the utmost to preserve my com-
plexion; and every day when I take one of the
French chemist's skilfully compounded lozenges I
consider myself fortunate in having received so
great a boon from bis hands."

" Do you think. Miss Trafford," inquired her
ladyship, speaking with hesitation and diffidence,
" that money could procure from this French

chemist "

" The revelation of the secret ?" I ejaculated,
with an air of astonishment. " Oh no ! assuredly
not ! He is already rich, and singularly eccentric.
He uses his scientific knowledge as a means of
bestowing gifts of real value and importance as
proofs of his friendship where he happens to take
a fancy."

" I am almost sorry that you have told me of
this wonderful preservative," said Lady Kelvedon ;

" for now I long But no. Miss TrafiFord ! The

remark I was about to make would be most un-
generous, unladylike, and improper. I thank you
for your exceeding kindness : I beg that this day
may initiate not merely an acquaintance but a
friendship between us; and I shall always be de-
lighted to see you."

" Lady Kelvedon," I said, " you have spoken
so kindly to me that I feel as if had some duty to
perform — or at least as if I ought to seek for some
means of testifying my gratitude : and what better
means can I adopt than by putting you in posses-
sion of the preservative which I see you desire ?
Ah !" I ejaculated, " it happens singularly enough
that I have a box of these precious lozenges about
my person at this present moment !"

I produced the tin box : I opened it, and dis-
placed the piak lozenges to Lady Kelvedon, who
gazed on them with as much mingled joy and
reverential admiration as if it were the elixir of
life fresh from the laboratory of the alchemist,
which I was presenting to her view.

" This box is your's," I said ; " your ladyship is
welcome to it : I have several others at home.
But I charge you not to let any one see it ! — I
charge you likewise to maintain the secret invio*
lable !"

" On my honour, as a lady and a peeress," ex-
claimed the delighted Hermione, " your injunc-
tions. Miss Traflford, shall be implicitly obeyed !
Ob, you must think me childish— but I am really
rejoiced at the possession of this preservative !
But how are the lozenges to be used ?"

" What does your ladyship habitually take for
breakfast," 1 inquired, — " tea, coffee, or choco-
late ?"

" Invariably coffee," answered Lady Kelvedon.
" It is the favourite beverage of both his lordship
and myself."

" And can your ladyship contrive," I asked, " to
drop one of these lozenges every morning into the
coffee pot ?"

" Ob, yes — easily enough !" she exclaimed ;

" because hia lordship is invariably engrossed
with the newspaper at the breakt'aat-table. But
will not the lozenges give a taste to the coffee ?"

" "Not the slightest," I answered : " they will
alter not its taste or its colour. And they are
perfectly harmless on the one hand — while on the
other they are productive of the utmost benefit,
as I have already described to your ladyship.
See !" I added ; " and be convinced that they are
innocuous."

Thus speaking, I took one of the lozenges from
the box and placed it in my mouth.

" And how often," inquired Lady Kelvedon,
" should the lozenges be mixed with the coffee ?"

" Every day," I answered. " You have a con-
siderable quantity here ; and when the box is ex-
hausted, I shall have much pleasure in furnishing
another supply. Your ladyship must commence
to-morrow ; and in a short time your mirror will
convince you that I have in no way exaggerated
the sovereign efficacy of this singular compound.
Ah !" I ejaculated, " some one is hastily ascending
the stairs ! For heaven's sake hide the box !"

Lady Kelvedon lost not a moment in depositing
the lozenges in an elegant workbox which stood
upon the table, and which she immediately locked,
— taking out the key and placing it in her bosom.
Scarcely was this done, when the door opened and
Mr. CoUingwood made his appearance.

Ho started and stopped short on beholding me.
I very well understood the cause of his emotion :
but Lady Kelvedon naturally attributed it to his
surprise on beholding in that room a visitress
whom he might possibly recognise as Miss Traf-
ford the tragedian. Her ladyship therefore has-
tened to say, " Mr, CoUingwood, allow me to in-
troduce you to Miss Trafford, whom I know that
you have seen and admired, but with whom I
believe you were hitherto unacquainted."

Mr. CoUingwood bowed with every appearance
of the most courteous politeness : but he darted a
quick look, half anxious, half menacing, upon me,
— a look which I however met with a calm, steady,
and unruffled demeanour.

" I am proud," he said, " to have the honour of
meeting Miss Trafford :"— and there was a slight
vibration in his tone, but still too feeble to attract
the notice of any one who had not some reason to
be struck by such slight details.

" You know, Mr. Collingwoo'^," resumed Lady
Kelvedon, " that my friend Aline Marcy has ex-
pressed a desire to go upon the stage "

" Yes— I think I have heard your ladyship say
so," remarked CoUingwood, now with an air of
complete composure — though whether it was
forced or not, I could not determine ; " and there-
fore you have sent for Miss Trafford and Miss

Trafford," he added in the most courteous tone,
" has been kind enough to come hither."

" And what is more," said Hermione, " Miss
Trafford has generously volunteered her services in
the most handsome and friendly manner."

" I am by no means surprised to receive this
announcement from your ladyship's lips : for every
one who has heard of Miss Trafford — and who has
not heard of her ? — must be aware that her dispo-
sition is as noble as her talents are great, and that
she is the very embodiment of the lofciest feelings,
associated with the sublimest genius. I am cun-
vinced that whatsoever promue Miss Trafford may

EILEN PKECT; OR, THE MRMOIRS r.p AN ACTUESS.

'i09

have made, will be scrupulously fulfilled to the
very letter :" — and Mr. Collingwood bent a signifi-
cant look upon mj countenance, as he accentuated
the last words of his speech.

I had not been nearly an hour in Lady Xel>
vedon's society, without discovering that she had
her little foibles, and that though perfectly good-
tempered and kind-hearted, she had her feminine
pride and vanity. Therefore, she herself being
fond of flattery, evidently expected that I myself
should bo pleased by the string of compliments
which had just been addressed to me, and of
which she did not fathom the full meaning.
Something like a shade of disappointment and
surprise appeared upon her countenance, when
with a slight inclination of the head towards Mr.
Collingwood, I said in a cold tone, " You are
right, sir ; whatsoever promise I make, no matter
under what circumstances, I faithfully adhere
to it."

No. 52,—Ei,LE» Peecy. •

I then bade Lady Kelvedon farewell : she prof-
fered me her hand at parting ; and with another
very distant bow to Mr. Collingwood, I issued
from the room.

The reader has seen that by my deportment
and my words I gave this individual to under-
stand that his secret was safe with me, and that I
respected the oath which I had taken, even
though it was extorted from my lips, in the ruined
farm -buildings near Petersfield. I might have
left him in suspense upon the point, so that this
suspense itself might have served as a punish-
ment : but I had two motives in pursuing a dif-
ferent course. In the first place I had received
sufficient proof to convince me that he was a man
of desperate character ; and I was therefore fearful
of exciting his hostility anew against me; — and ia
the second place I did not wish to leave him in a
state of uncertainty on the point which so vitally
concerned him, for fear lest ha should after my

410

ELIiElf PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP ABT ACTBES8.

departure question and cross-question Lady Kel-
vedon in a manner to excite her suspicion that he
and I had met before. For I saw that she was
Bomewhat weak-minded, easy to be led and facile
of persuasion ; and I was apprehensive lest Col-
lingwood should worm out of her the incidents
which had taken place between us in respect to
the bos of lozenges. But by at once relieving
Collingwood's mind from all suspense, I had ren-
dered it unnecessary for him to turn the discourse,
when alone with Hertnione, into any channel that
stood the least chance of developing the matter
which I so much desired should be concealed.

As for the project which I had adopted to in-
duce Lady Kelvedon to administer the lozenges
not merely to herself but to her husband, the
reader must admit that the fictions which I had
conjured up for the purpose were not merely the
most venial, but likewise the most justifiable un-
truths ever uttered. I had gone to that mansion
trusting entirely to the chapter of accidents to
develop some circumstance favourable to my de-
eign ; for I had all along been resolved that be-
neath a roof where poison might be administered,
there also should be the antidote. That Mr. Col-
lingwood had obtained the venomed loeenges from
Dame Betty for the purpose of removing from his
path all obstacles to his eventual succession to the
title and estates of Kelvedon, I was firmly con-
vinced ; but whether he intended to practice his
diabolical iniquity towards his old uncle or that
uncle's young wife, or against both, it was not
equally easy to conjecture. Therefore I had every
reason to felicitate myself on having been fur-
nished by providential circumstances with the
means of administering the antidote alike to the
old nobleman and the young wife.

CHAPTEE LXX.

THE biack; eibbok.

It was between seven and eight o'clock in the
evening — and I was seated in the drawing-room
■with Mary G-lent worth, to whom I was speaking
of Aline Marcy — when a double knock at the
front door resounded through the house. In a
few moments a servant entered the drawing-room,
to say that a gentleman desired to opeak to me on
the part of Lady Kelvedon. I immediately de-
scended to the parlour, into which the visitor had
been shown : I was wondering who he could be,
and whether any change had occurred in her lady-
ship's plans with regard to Aline Marcy— when,
on entering that room, I to my astonishment
found myself face to face with Mr. Collingwood.

"Pardon me. Miss Percy, for this intrusion,"
he immediately said : " but after very mature
consideration, I deemed it requisite to have a few
■words with you; and I am sure that considering
all things, you will not refuse me this favour,"

" I must candidly confess, sir," I answered,
very distantly and coldly, " that I am surprised
you should seek my presence "

" I beseech you to hear me. Miss Percy 1" in-
terrupted Collingwood : " for what I have to say
is serious and important. You cannot for a mo-

ment think that I am capable of insult or outrage
under existing circumstances "

" And you cannot think, sir, that I am afraid
of either beneath this roof, with succour near at
hand ?" — and as I thus coldly spoke, I pointed
significantly towards the bell-pull.

"Miss Percy," continued Collingwoo:^, "your
behaviour of this afternoon in Eaton Square has
justified the high opinion which I entertain of
you "

" Enough, sir !" I ejaculated. " Let mc bog of
you to understand that compliments coming from
yotir lips are most repugnant to my feelings !"

" I merely meant to convey my sense of grati-
tude," said CoUingwoocI, humbly, "for the man-
ner in which you kept the solemn oath you had
taken -"

"And now therefore I presume you have no
farther business with me ?"

" Pardon me. Miss Percy," interjected Colling-
wood : "Ihave something very serious to say —
something to propose. Permit me to observe in
preparatory terms, that the interests of an indivi-
dual in this world may by the sudden aspect of
circumstances be so modelled as to suggest a
blending with the interests of another. You do
not understand me P I will endeavour to speak
more plainly. I occupy a certain position in
society — I move in the highest sphere — to that
same sphere could I introduce the lady who be-
comes my wife——"

" What !" I ejaculated : and I felt my cheeks
crimsoning and my eyes flashing with indigna-
tion. " Begone, sir !" — and I pointed towards
the door.

" You have understood my proposal. Miss
Percy," said Mr. Collingwood, " bef.'te I had fully
explained it — and I beseech you to give it your
consideration. It is by no means likely that there
will be issue from the marriage of my old uncle
with a young woman ; and therefore there is
every chance that upon the brow of the btiJo
whom I may lead to the altar I shall shortly be
enabled to place a coronet. It is a coronet in
prospective that I offer you. Miss Percy ! Per-
haps you hate me — perhaps you are bitterly vin-
dictive against me ; but still if you consult your
own interests "

" And is it possible," I exclaimed, " that you
pretended to know the real character of Ellea
Percy ? Oh, you have greatly misunderstood her
if you fancy that for the sake of a coronet she
would forget every good feeling — every sense of
duty ! — that she would trample aa it were under
foot all those sentiments which, rest assured, she
cherishes far beyond rank, fortune, honours, and
titles ! You did not know my character before :
but now you know, it ! — and dare not remain an-
other instant to insult me with your presence !"

Collingwood looked completely discomfited : he
had evidently been far from expecting such a re-
suit. He stood uncertain how to act, — not know-
ing whether to beat an immediate retreat, or to
return once more to the charge. I grew excited
with the strong indignation that filled my bosom :
I stamped my foot upon the carpet ; and I ex-
claimed, "Depart, sir, at once !— or I will ring this
bell to summon assistance for the ejectment of an
intruder whose presence is hateful to me!"

" I go, Misa Percy," he eaid, evidently with a

ELLEN PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP AN ACTRESS.

411

sense of deepest humiliation; "and I grieve that
I should have offended jou. I beseech that we
may stand on precisely the same ground towards
each other as before I paid this unfortunate visit."

" Begone, sir !" — and now I rang the bell,

Mr. Collingwood bowed : bis face was very
palo, but the expression of his countenance was
that of mortification and disappointment, and had
nothing menacing in it. The door closed behind
him ; and in a few moments I heard a carriage
drive away from the front of the house. I re-
mained for a few minutes in the parlour, after
Collingwood was gone, to compose my looks before
I returned to Mary Glentworth ; for I did not
wish to be questioned by her, nor to bo drawn into
any explanations in respect to that man. The
burning blush of indignation was still upon my
countenance; and as I threw a glance into the
mirror to see whether my looks were much raffled,
I found that my eyes were still flashing fire. I sat
down and meditated upon all that had occurred.

" Methinks," I said to myself, " I now begin to
obtain an insight into this villain's crafty policy.
He is aware that I am acquainted with the fact
of Lis possessing the poisoned lozenges ; and he
dares not use them — for if death should occur
suspiciously in the Kelvedon family, he knows
not how I may deem it my duty to step forward
^in spite of my oath and give that assistance to the
investigations of justice which I should be so well
able to afiford ! He therefore finds himself placed
in a cruel embarrassment : for if there should be
an heir born to his uncle from this marriage, fare-
well to all the hopes and prospects of the nephew !
Ail this he sees; and he has taken counsel with
himself. The idea has struck him that if he could
succeed in winning me as his wife, Lo might either
secure me as an accomplice in his diabolical plans,
or at all events place a seal upon my lips when he
should have carried them out. Ah ! he was in-
deed ignorant of my true character : but now he
knows it ! What will he do next ? His position
seems desperate : for at each successive turn he
finds himself baffled. Yet he is not the man to
abandon everything without some bold struggle;
and therefore perchance he may still fall back on
the poisoned lozenges. But, thank heaven ! there
is the antidote — it is sure to be taken — and by my
introduction to Lady Celvedon I am fortunately
placed in a position to watch the progress of
events!"

Such was the strain of my meditations for some
few minutes after Collingwood had taken his de-
parture; and when I had sufficiently composed
my looks, I rejoined Mary Glentworth in the
drawing-room. I easily accounted for the visit
which 1 had just received from a gentleman on
the part of Lady Kelvedon ; and Mary asked me
no questions.

On the following day Aline Marcy came to re-
ceive her first lesson in her studies for the stage.
Mary Glentworth asked to be present; and to this
there was no objection. Aline recited some pas-
sages from Shakspere ; and I was much struck by
her excellent appreciation of the characters whom
she was thus personifying. I soon found that she
possessed a veritable taste for the stage, and a real
genius in that particular sphere. Indeed I fore-
saw that she would shine in the dramatic world ;
and as I possessed not the least jealousy nor the

slightest dread of rivalry, I took pleasure in cul-
tivating her talent— and I felt that I should have
every reason to be proud of my pupil.

A fortnight passed, during which Madsmoisella
Marcy came daily ; and she profited with wondrous
rapidity by the instructions I gave her. Some-
times methought that I beheld a glow of enthu-
siasm on Mary Glentworth's countenance when
she was present at these lessons, as if she herself
felt an inclination to embrace the stage as a pro-
fession : but when once the lessons were over, and
Aline had departed, Mary seemed to think no
more of the impression temporarily made upon
her. I now noticed likewise that she had occa-
sional fits of abstraction : she sometimes seemed
pensive — she did not immediately answer when I
spoke— and on repeating my observation, what-
ever it were, she would start as if suddenly
aroused from a deep reverie. Two or three times
I inquired if she bad anything upon her mind
and if she were unhappy; but then her counte-
nance would brighten up— she would become her-
self again — and she would give me the assurance
that she had every reason to be perfectly happy.
I could not altogether understand it : there was
a vagUQ uneasiness floating in my mind ; but I
feared to question Mary too closely, lest her
thoughts should be painfully connected with her
deceased mother, and that anything I might say
would only tend to render them more poignant.
It struck me that Mr. Wilkinson might have in-
advertently dropped some hint which had excited
the poor girl's suspicion relative to the legitimacy
of her birth ; and this was a topic which I would
not for worlds unnecessarily approach.

But leaving Mary Glentworth for the present
and passing away from this topic, I must proceed
to observe that the more I saw of Aline Marcy,
the more I liked her. I found her to be unaf-
fected, amiable, generous- hearted, and grateful,—
endowed with that lofty spirit which aspired to
eat the bread of independence— confident of suc-
cess in the profession which she purposed to em-
brace— but utterly without pride, vanity, or con-
ceit. I learnt that Mr. Collingwood did not
live with his uncle in Eaton Square, but that he
was a frequent visitor at the house. I likewise
gleaned from Mademoiselle Marcy's discourse that
the demeanour of Mr. Collingwood towards his
youthful aunt was always characterised by the
utmost respect, and that he addressed her only as
" Lady Kelvedon" or " your ladyship." At the
expiration of that fortnight which had now elapsed
since I first became acquainted with Aline, I paid
a second visit to Eaton Square, and found myself
alone with Lady Kelvedon. She soon began to
speak of the lozenges which I had given her : she
assured me that she had not missed a single
morning in stealthily dropping one into the coffee ;
and I saw that she courted a compliment on ac-
count of her good looks. I therefore said with
becoming seriousness, " It is quite evident, my
dear Lady Kelvedon, that you already experience
the beneficial effects of the French chemist's nos-
trum."

" Do you really think so ?" she exclaimed, with
a tone and look which proved that she herseK
was of precisely the same opinion, and that J(er
mirror had full often been consulted for the pur*
pose.

413

EILEN PEECT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OP AN ACrEESS.

Now, it happened that her ladyship was indeed
looking remarkably well; but whether it were
the result of anything which the lozenges might
contain, or whether a change of air had benefited
her, I could not determine. Certain however it
was that her complexion had a remarkable clear-
negg — the rose-tint of health was upon her cheeks
—and I was thus enabled most truthfully to com-
pliment her upon her appearance. I departed,
much satisfied with this interview ; for I was con-
vinced that if Mr. Collingwood were by any
means administering the subtle poison, the anti-
dote was doing its work effectually : and thus I
felt that I might set my conscience completely at
rest on the score of keeping an oath in a case
where my duty in another sense might have re-
quired that it should be broken.

Two or three days after this visit to Lady
Kolvedon, I received a letter from Juliet inform-
ing mo that she had a new source of trouble ; for
that her husband had been thrown from his horse
and had seriously injured himself, though no bones
were broken. She said that she felt very un-
happy; and she entreated me to run down and
see her if it were only for a single day. I could
not resist this appeal from that dear friend whom
I loved with true sisterly affection; and I wrote
to say that I would be with her on the ensuing
Saturday, as my engagements would permit me to
remain with her until the Tuesday. I accordingly
informed Aline that there would be a suspension
of her studies for two or three days ; but she as-
sured me that in the interval she should practice
her readings by herself. I did not wish either
Mary Glentworth or Beda to accompany me ; for
all the circumstances recently connected with Lord
Frederick were of too painful a character to ren-
der me willing to excite their curiosity on the
point ; and moreover I saw by the tenour of
Juliet's letter that she wished me to come alone.

I set ofif early on the Saturday morning, tra-
velling in a postchaise ; and I reached Eiver
House between two and three o'clock in the
afternoon. Juliet hastened forth to welcome me ;
and I was grieved to observe that she had a
pale, careworn and unquiet look, despite the
animation of joy which appeared upon her
countenance as we embraced each other. Lord
Frederick was sleeping at the time ; and Juliet
led me up to the chamber which had been
prepared for my reception and which was the
same that I had been wont to occupy on former
occasions when at Eiver House. I should here
observe that it was now upwards of three weeks
since Lord Frederick llavcnsclifie underwent the
fearful process of branding : he still wore a sable-
ribbon fastened round his head so as to cover his
seared brow — and Juliet remained ignorant of the
real cause for which that bandage was worn. She
still believed the tale which he had told her of
being knocked down by a vehicle in the crowded
streets of London, and of having fearfully dis-
fiured his forehead by a violent concussion against
the sharp kerbstone of the pavement.

" And how occurred this fresh accident ?" I
inquired, alluding to the fall from the horse.

" The animal which Frederick is accustomed to
ride," answered Juliet, in a mournful tone, " is a
spirited one ; but still neither he nor I suspected
that it had any vice. I have encouraged Frederick

to take plenty of exercise since his unfortunate
visit to Loudon three weeks b.ick ; for ns I have
told you in my letters, bis mind has been much
distressed at the thought of his countenance being
so disfigured, and at the necessity of wearing a
black ribbon everlastingly upon his head. Ah !
you shudder, dear Ellen "

" Forgive me, dearest Juliet !" I exclaimed,
vehemently embracing her. "Not for worlds

would I add to your affliction Oh, no ! not for

worlds!"

" Oh, I know it!" she cried: "but you sym-
pathize with me ! Alas, and I need all possible
sympathy ! You know not how altered Frederick
has become. He is still as kind as ever towards
me — perhaps even kinder : but a terrific blight
has fallen upon his happiness, and I fear that he
will never get over it. At night he is restless-
he tosses his arms about — he starts up in hia
sleep — he shrieks out with a perfect yell of agony
— he gives utterance to wild and plaintive cries.
It seems as if that terrific accident the efi'ects of
which he feels so bitterly, was being re-enacted in
his dreams. During the day time, when we are
together, he sometimes remains plunged in a f'.eep
reverie : or else he paces the room with agl'^ated
steps; — and as I watch him with painful anxiety,
I observe that his hands clench and he is fihaken
throughout his entire form with strong convulsing
spasms. Oh, my dear Ellen ! there is something
dreadful in all this; and I know not how to act!
I am afraid to breathe words of consolation and
sympathy, because by so doing it shows that I
notice how profoundly he is agitated : but yet when
he is in these deeply desponding or terrifically ex-
cited moods, it seems cruel not to do my beat to
console him — thnngh there is really no consola-
tion I"

Juliet paused ; and for a few minutes she was
overwhelmed by her emotions. I was horrified,
shocked, and pained by what I heard; for I
thought to myself that all this could not last, and
that the moment would sooner or later come when
Juliet would discover the whole tremendous truth.

" The scar left behind by the accident in Lon-
don," continued Lady Frederick Ravensclifie, after
that long pause, and now speaking in a half-hushed
voice and in broken accents, " must be very fright-
ful, because you know not how sensitive poor Fre-
derick is upon the point ! We used invariably to
have a light burning in our chamber at night: but
now he chooses that the room shall be enveloped
in total darkness. Oh ! he is dreadfully fright-
ened lest by any accident I should obtain a glimpse
of his brow ! In terms as delicate as possible I
have assured him that my curiosity on the point
could not override my duty or my affection. At
the same time, too, 1 have earnestly entreated him
to believe that no disfigurement which he may
have sustained would alter my feelings towards
him. But, oh, Ellen ! I fear that he scarcely
credits me — he has not sufficient faith in woman's
devotedness ! — or else why should he regard with
such horrible apprehension the idea of accident be-
traying to my view the result of the injury which
he has sustained ?"

Juliet was again powerfully agitated : the tears
ran down her cheeks — her lips quivered— her
bosom rose and fell with quick troubled heavings.
It pained me infinitely to behold this spectacle of

ELLEN PEECT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP AIT ACTRESS.

413

my beloved friend's poignant anguish ; but what
could I saj to console her ? what words could I
breathe in her ear except the earnest entreaty that
she would gather all her tirmness to her aid and
meet courageously whatsoever aiHictiona heaven
might choose to pour upon her head ?

" Ob, have I not endured many, many calamities
during the two past years, Ellen?" she exclaimed
bitterly. " ^Yhen will heaven be wearied of afflict-
ing me ? — what have I done to be thus severely
tried ? AYas not my life pure and chaste until I
knew him who is now my husband P — and if for a
time I sank under the cloud of dishonour, it was
through no willing frailty on my own part!"

" For God's sake, Juliet, summon your forti-
tude to your aid!" I said. "Ah! by the bye,
you have not yet told me how this last accident
befel Lord Frederick :— but I fear from this an-
guish of your's that it is more serious than your
letter seemed to intimate ?"

" I was telling you, Ellen," returned Juliet,
" that I had advised poor Frederick to take as
much exercise as possible ; for I was in hopes that
the excitement of riding and being out in the open
air would cheer his spirits. His horse is full of
mettle ; but he did not believe that the animal
possessed any vice. It however appears that the
horse suddenly refused to take a leap which Fre-
derick was desirous of accomplishing — the animal
was obstinate — Frederick was resolute— the horse
reared completely up, and fell over with Frederick
under him."

" Good heavens ! this is indeed serious !" I ex-
claimed.

" Frederick did not lose his senses— and it was
with some difficulty that he disengaged himself
from beneath the fallen steed : but when he had
done so, he fortunately found that his limbs were
not broken. He returned home, dragging himself
painfully along, and leading the horse."

" Of course a medical man was at once sent
for P" I said.

" No," rejoined Juliet : " Frederick was sternly
resolute in his resolve not to see Mr. Singleton. I
begged and entreated that he would alter his deci-
sion : but all my prayers were vain. I gently and
delicately represented to him that Mr. Singleton
need be informed of nothing relative to the acci-
dent in London : but Frederick would not yield to
my intercessions. I have not since dared to re-
new the entreaty ; for to tell you the truth, Ellen,
poor Frederick appears to writhe in torture if I
mention the name of a medical man. There is
something very strange in all this !" said Juliet,
speaking slowly and in a deep reflecting mood.
" God grant that there is no mystery hidden from
my view ! — that there is not something more than
I have been led to understand !"

I could not help shuddering as Lady Frederick
Eavenscliffe thus spoke ; for more than ever did I
feel convinced that the time could not be far dis-
tant when the whole tremendous truth must inevi-
tably be discovered by her.

" Yes," she continued, still speaking in a low
voice and with a deliberate tone, but with a
certain preoccupied air, " I have had strange
and horrible fancies flitting through my mind.
Would you believe it, Ellen— but it seems
to mc as if every time the slightest allusion is
made to that black ribbon which encircles my

husband's brow, he wiitlies— he shudders- he can-
tracts as it were within himself, as if enduring
poignant agonies. It is the same, Ellen, as pre-
senting water to one who has been bitten by a
rabid dog and who is suflering the horrors of hy-
drophobia !"

" Good heavens, Juliet !" I involuntarily ejacu*
lated, shocked and appalled by the hideousness of
the simile which at once struck my comprehension
as being fraught with a horrible accuracy.

" Oh, yes ! it is indeed frightful," said my poor
friend, " to be compelled thus to speak : but I
have observed it all — I have watched him — I have
even been led as it were to identify my own feel-
ings with those that he endures : so that I have
shuddered and writhed in very sympathy with
him ! And now tell me, Ellen, is not this fright-
ful ?"

"He will get better, Juliet," I answered,
scarcely knowing what I was saying ; " and your
own feelings will grow more composed. Does he
know that you expect me here ?"

" Yes— I told him that I had written to you, and
that I had besought you to come and pass a day or
two with me. Sut to be candid with you, dear
Ellen, I saw that I had done something wrong-
Frederick's whole manner changed — I burst into
tears— and then he said everything he could ta
tranquillize me."

" And if my presence should be disagreeable,"
I said, " I should be very sorry, Juliet "

" Enough, dear Ellen ! Frederick knows that
you were to come to-day j and when I told him
that I had received a letter from you in answer to
my own, be expressed his satisfaction that I should
soon have my dearest friend with me. But even
then, Ellen, I saw that he was seized with one of
those horrible convulsions which at times sweep
like a strong galvanic spasm through his frame ;
and, Oh! I understood but too well the cause
thereof. It is to him a source of the bitterest
anguish to meet any one whom ho knew at the
time when the beauty of his countenance was
unmarred ; and therefore, dearest Ellen, you will
not by word or look "

" Good heavens, no ! not for the world !" I ex-
claimed. "I understand what you mean, Juliet;
and you know that rather than add to your af-
fliction, I would do all in my power to mitigate
it."

Juliet pressed my hand— and then said, " I will
now go and see if he be awake. I left him sleep-
ing on the sofa in the drawing-room; for slumbar
had stolen unconsciously upon him. Do you

know, Ellen " and Juliet hesitated, — "do you

know, my sweet friend, that while he thus slept —
I am ashamed to make the confession — and yet I
dare keep no secret from you — I confess therefore
that while he thus slept, I experienced an inclina-
tion—I can scarcely call it a curiosity— for the
word curiosity implies a mean and paltry feel-
ing "

" Oh, Juliet !" I exclaimed, starting with af-
fright as I suddenly comprehended what it was she
was about to confess. " You surely would not do
this, after having so faithfully promised your hus-
band "

"Xo— I would not do it, Ellen, so long as I re-
main the mistress of my own actions," rejoined
Juliet, »itb solemn earuestuesa : "but there are

4,U

EltES PEECT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF AH ACTEBSS.

moments when my brain reels— when reason ap- prayed:— and that is to be guarded from the
pears to be abandoning its throne — and when losing | temptation of violating my pledge — to be shielded
all control over myself, I feel as if I can obey | against the inclination of lifting that sable fillet
naught but the impulse of my morbid, feverish, from my husband's brow !"

frenzied inclinations. Oh ! there was a moment j Again I almost shrieked forth at the baro idea
just before your arrival, Ellen, when my eyes were i that such a deed on her part was possible: but
riveted upon that broad black ribbon— horrible with a great effort subduing my emotions, I said
thoughts were trooping through my brain — I can- impressively, " Juliet, you are incapable of this !"
not possibly define them — I know not whence they '• Oh !" she cried, becoming wildly excited
came or to what impulse they owed their origin— ' again ; " how can we frail mortals always resist

but it seemed as if Ob, my God ! how can I our inclinations? Satan himself is sometimes at

tell you what I thought at that moment " our elbow to fill our hearts with dreadful impulses!

" Do not tell me, Juliet! — do not !" I ejacu- i How is it that the individual who has no reason

lated, shuddering from head to foot.

"Yes, yes — I must!" cried my anguished friend:
" there is some unknown power which impels me
thus completely to unbosom myself unto you.
Listen, dear Ellen ! — for though I afilict you like-
wise, yet must I speak ! I was saying, therefore,
that I thought while I sat there by Frederick's
side, as he lay slumbering on the sofa, and as my
eyes were riveted upon that broad black band —
yes, riveted, Ellen, with a horrible fascination, as
if my gaze were charmed by the hideous spell-like
glare of an envenomed snake — — "

" Juliet ! Juliet !" I murmured ; " for God's
sake spare yourself ! — spare me !"

" One word, and I have done !" she answered :

for suicide and dreams not of it, feels when stand-
ing on the brink of a precipice, an irresistible de-
sire to plunge headlong into the abysm below ?
And, Ob, Ellen ! but a few minutes before your
arrival, I was as it were standing on that precipice

my hand was stretched forth to touch the

black ribbon — to lift it gently from my husband's
brow — and to see that dread mark which he con-
ceal?, so to speak, beneath a black portentous mys-
tery !"

'•' Again I say, Juliet, you would not do such a
thing !" I exclaimed emphatically.

" God grant that I may not !" she responded,
with a sudden solemnity alike of voice and look.
" I will now go and see if he be awake ; and if so.

and there seemed to be a subdued frenzy in her you shall at once be summoned to the drawing-
looks. " I thought, Ellen, as I thus gazed upon I room."

my sleeping husband, that something frightful Juliet left me, — left mo a prey to feelings so
must have happened to him — that tho whole truth harrowed that I cannot possibly describe them. I
had been concealed from me — that for some hideous j loTcd her dearly : I saw that her happiness was
crime the finger of heavea itself had impressed the i already wrecking — and I trembled lest that wreck
brand of Cain upon his brow !" I should become complete. I was prepared by her

"Juliet! Juliet !" I again murmured ; " this is i letter to find her much afflicted: but I expected
dreadful ! For heaven's sake speak not thus !"— not to find her half wild, half frenzied as she
and I felt as if I must literally groan with horror. I proved to be.

"Pardon me, dearest Ellen— pardon me, I en- ' In a few minutes she returned to my chamber:
treat you!" said Lady Frederick Ravenscliffe; "for her looks were now completely calm— but I saw
I know that I am afliicting you cruelly. But Oh ! that there was a deep agitation beneath the sur-
it seems to me as if no words but those of horror : face, and that it was only a forced composure as.
or of anguish may issue from my lips — and as if it sumed for the purpose of maintaining appearances
would be something unnatural if others were to when in her husband's presence; for he was now
speak to me in different terms and voices !" I awake. I accompanied her to the drawing-room.

" Juliet," I said, now taking her hand and gazing My mind was already made up how to act towards
with earnest entreaty upon her face, "you must I Lord Frederick. Infinite though my horror of
not continue in this strain — or else I shall fear that ! his character was— immense as the loathing and

my presence has excited you, and I shall be sorry
that I have come."

" No, no, Ellen ! you must not be sorry !" re-
plied Juliet vehemently. "Why is it that I thus
speak to you ? It is because all I have thought
and felt has for three weeks past been pent up in
my own bosom — I have had no one to whom I
could confide anything — I have felt as if completely
alone on the face of the earth ! And now that you
are here, it is a species of painful satisfaction — I
know not how to describe it "

" Well then, Juliet," I said, " you shall confide
all your thoughts and feelings to me, my sweet
friend!— but you must not close the avenues of
your heart against the sympathy and the salace
which I endeavour to proffer you. Pray to heaven
for strength, Juliet "

" 1 7irtue prayed, Ellen," she interrupted mo —
and it was with a kind of bitterness, as if to imply
that the more she prayed the more she found her-
self afflicted. " And, Oh !" she cried : " there is
ouo point on which I have indeed strenuously

abhorrence necessarily were which I entertained
on account of his conduct to the unfortunate
Felicia Gower — yet for Juliet's sake had I deter-
mined to assume a friendly demeanour towards
her husband. I could not help thinking likewise
that in all the misery which he himself was en-
during, with that brand burning like a Cain-curse
upon his brow, there was at least an adequate
chastisement, if not a complete atonement, for the
enormous crimes of which he had been guilty.

On accompanying Juliet to the drawing-room,
I found Lord Frederick pacing to and fro. He
wore a dressing-gown ; and around his head was
bound the bro.id black ribbon — an inch and a
half in depth, tightly tied, and giving a sinister
expression to his countenance. In my estimation
perhaps it was even more sinister than it would
otherwise have been ; because I was acquainted
with the terrible reason for which that sable fillet
was worn — I knew the precise nature of the mark
which it was there to conceal .'

The moment the door opened. Lord Frederick

BLLEN PEECY; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP AW ACTRESS.

415

flung a quick shuddering glanoo towards me ; and
pale though hia cheeks already were, a still more
ghastly pallor came upon them.

■' Lord Frederick," I hastily said, extending my
Land, " I am exceedingly sorry to learn that you
have experienced this accident with your horse."

The wretched young noblemaa made no reply
—but pressed my hand with so strong a convul-
sive violence that it hurt me : then abruptly turn-
ing towards his wife, he said, " My dear Juliet, I
hare still that thirst upon me. G-o and make me
some lemonade. Be sure you make it yourself,
my dear girl! — for no one caa so nicely com-
pound it to my taste."

Juliet hastened away from the room ; and I
full well comprehended that this was a mere pre-
text on Eavenscliffe's part to get rid of her for a
few minutes that he might be alone with me. The
instant the door closed behind her, he again seized
my hand and wrung it vehemently, murmuring,
" You have kept my secret. Miss Percy! — and I
thank you I God knows how sincerely I thank
you!"

" 1 assured you in London, my lord," I replied,
" that I would do nothing which should inter-
fere with my beloved friend Juliet's happiness."

" And it is for her sake only that you have
given me your hand !" he exclaimed with bitter-
ness : " for you regard me as a monster and a

monster indeed I am ! Yes— a monster of ini-
quity, and a monster now in personal appearance !
The searing iron—"

" Hush, my lord ! — hush !" I said, glancing with
affright towards the door. "Juliet may return at
any moment !"

" Ob, my God I" he cried, wringing his hands in
the excruciating poisnancy f^f i>io mental anguish,
" how long am I to live thus? — how long can this
horrible secret be kept from poor Juliet's know-
ledge ? The curse of Cain is on my brow ! Never
more may I look the world in the face ! Ah, Miss
Percy ! if my misdeeds have been great, believe me
my punishment is horrible ! My thoughts are
like fiery serpents twisting and coiling and agitating

in my brain "

"Hush, my lord!" I again said. "Juliet may

return ! At least have pity upon her "

"Pity upon her?" he exclaimed, in a tone of
deep feeling. " I would do anything to serve her !
I love her, Miss Percy— she is the noblest and the
best of women— and not the least of my many
crimes was my diabolical conduct towards Juliet
before she became my wife. Ah I perhaps you
will ask me wherefore I do not throw myself at her
feet, confess everything, bare my brow, and display
the brand of Cain upon it? She would not reproach
me— I know she would not!— she would offer me
her sympathy : but the sight would kill her ! Be-
sides, to confess that I had been thus branded — to
reveal myself as it were in the light of a felon-
viler than the vilest galley-slave of France, who
has a brand only upon his shoulder and not upon
his brow, — no, no! I could not do it!— all this is
impossible ! But, my God ! what is to become of
me ? I cannot live on thus :— and what mode of

suicide is there "

"My lord," I ejaculated, "add not to your
other misdeeds the crime of self-destruction — no,
nor even the crime of harbouring an idea of it !"
" Listen, Miss Percy !" exclaimed the wretched

young nobleman. " I must speak — and you must
hear me ! What mode of suicide, I ask, cau I

have recourse to -"

" My lord ! my lord ?" I ontreatingly ejacu-
lated.

" What mode of suicide ?" he continued, heed-
less of the interruption. " Oh ! I have asked my-
self that question a thousand times— I have sought
for a means of self-destruction which may render it
impossible that the brand upon my brow shall be
discovered ! If I seek the heights overlooking
the sea a couple of miles hence, and plunge head-
long into the deep water, the waves may throw up
my corse on the shore beforo the fish shall have
time to eat away the flash from this brow of mine !
Again, if I hurl myself from the cliffs on the beach

below "

" For heaven's sake cease, my lord !" I mur-
mured, in an agony of terror. "Juliet will

come "

He paused — listened— and then exclaimed, " "No,
she comes not yet ! If I hurl myself from a
towering height on the rugged beach below, my
limbs may be mangled — but my countenance may
escape all injury ! Oh, you know not what hor-
ribly fantastic ideas have at times taken possession
of my brain ! What if I were to journey to
Naples or to Sicily, and plunge headlong into the
crater of Vesuvius or of Etna? Or what if I
were to dip my head into a bath of burning
vitriol ?"

" Cease, my lord ! cease !" I cried, now overcome
with the feelings of intensest horror which this
frightful discourse was but too woll oaloulatod to
conjure up. " I insist upon your silence, or upon
a change of topic ! I will hear no more of these
mad, these hideous ravings !"

" Mad !" muttered the miserable Lord Frederick :
"yes, I am indeed mad !— and it is no wonder
that instead of rational discourse, my tongue should
give vent to these wild excited ravings ! But is
not my existence a curse unto myself — a curse to
Ju'iet ? Oh, my God ! you know not my sufferings,
Ellen !"

He flung himself upon the sofa, sobbing and
weeping violently. I besought him to be calm :
for I feared lest Juliet should suddenly make her
appearance, and she might fancy that I had said
something thus wildly to excite him.

" I have thought too," he exclaimed, suddenly
starting up, his dark eyes flashing fierce fires below
the sable fillet which bound his head, — " I have
thought of sallying forth in quest of that miscreant
who planted his curse upon my brow ! I have
said to myself, ' If I can find him, what hideous
cruelties can I practice upon him P' — and then I

have thought "

" Now listen to me, Lord Frederick!" I said, in
a firm and decisive tone. " Tou wish me to keep
your secret — and I am keeping it ! But if by
your own madness you every moment threaten to
betray it, I shall feel it to be my duty to prepare
Juliet at once, so that it may not burst with over-
whelming suddenness upon her. I will gradually

lead her on to the knowledge of everything "

" No, no. Miss Percy ! you will not do this !"
ejaculated the young nobleman, his countenance
expressing the direst, most anguished terror.

I was rejoiced that I had thus been enabled to
find a means of touching him ; and still retaining

416

ELIEN PERCY; OK, THE MEM0IE8 OP AN ACTRESS.

a firm decisive look, I said, " Rest assured, my
lord, that I will not betray you unless I see that
you are resolved to betray yourself. Then, in that
case, for Juliet's sake— indeed for all the reasons
which I have enunciated — I shall deem it my duty
to take a decisive step. AFith the deepest pain
and sorrow should I adopt such a course : but be-
lieve me, my lord, it is no idle threat on my
part !"

" Miss Percy," he said, now suddenly becoming
calm, "I implore and entreat Oh, I conjure

you not to do this ! Pardon me for my ravings-
forgive me, Miss Percy "

" Hush ! Juliet comes !" I said. " Be com-
posed ! — be tranquil !"

" Tranquil !" murmured the wretched Ravens-
clifie, throwing himself upon the sofa, aa an
anguished expression swept over bis countenance.

But he said no more; and the next instant
Juliet made her appearance, bearing a crystal
jug containing the lemonade which she really fan-
cied her unfortunate husband had desired.

x:;d cf tolitjie i.

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